


Shall I Stay?

by alldaydream



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Marijuana, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, SO MUCH FLUFF, Underage Drinking, then so much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 100,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21689995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alldaydream/pseuds/alldaydream
Summary: “I was thinking, and you know what would be fun? A bet.”“What?” Patrick asks confused.“Some friendly competition, Brewer. Something to spice things up.”“What kind of bet?” Patrick asks suspiciously.Brock’s grin turns dangerous. “I bet you can’t get David Rose to sleep with you.”-A high school AU about bets, art, Elvis Presley and hopefully finding yourself in between.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 519
Kudos: 565





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest thing I've ever written and I'm so excited to finally be at a point where I'm comfortable enough to share it. Seriously, I've been working on this since August, this is my baby. And I know people's opinions about WIPs, but please give me a chance!
> 
> I also just want to provide a rough timeline: the story starts at the end of February/beginning of March. I don't play baseball, but after comparing and contrasting with different high schools, I think this is around the time spring training begins. Please don't @ me for not knowing, I really just don't sport very well lol 
> 
> I'm going by my high school's calendar year which was first week of September through fourth week of June. 
> 
> And lastly, I chose to rate this M just in case because I'm honestly so bad at figuring out when toeing the line goes too far. There's no smut, but there is underage drinking and marijuana usage. 
> 
> Also everyone is over the age of 18. In my head, David's 18th birthday falls during the summer before his senior year of high school and Patrick's is in the early fall.

It’s not that Patrick didn’t like art. He just didn’t understand it. Not like he understood baseball or hockey anyways, that came easy to him. And yet, here he is, sitting in the art room, staring blankly at his canvas, willing his hand to do _something_. 

The assignment is ‘mixing nature with technology’ and Patrick’s mind is blanking. He glances around the room at his other classmates and what they’re doing, hoping something will spark in him.

One kid is painting a large tree with cell phones hanging down from the branches, the tall kid is painting a cell phone with vines shooting out from the screen, and another kid is quite literally on her cell phone, scrolling away and clearly unbothered by the assignment.

_I guess I could paint a cell phone sprouting up from the ground? Like a flower? Flowers are good. They’re easy._

Not for the first time does Patrick think about splashing paint on his canvas and telling the teacher that it’s _abstract_ because _art is subjective_. But he can’t. Because parked in the far corner of the room, away from everyone else sat David Rose, someone who actually did create abstract pieces that _meant_ something.

Patrick didn’t always understand what David painted, but he knew he always felt something whenever he looked at one of his paintings. There was always an emotion tied to it. The last piece he saw of David’s, casting a secretive glance towards his corner, made Patrick feel sad. It looked, well, _lonely_. Which made sense for David Rose in a way. Patrick always saw him walking in the halls alone. 

David always sat in the same corner every day. He was by a wall of windows, light streaming through and framing David like a halo. He wore large, chunky headphones as he worked, blasting music in his ears further isolating himself from the rest of the class. He never spoke to anyone except Ms. Moore, the art teacher. He was always the first one in the room and the last one out. 

Patrick tears his gaze away from David, something he found himself doing more of in the last few months. 

Last year when he was setting up his schedule with his guidance counselor, it was recommended that he sign-up for an art class to push the well-rounded student narrative in his college applications. He had done well in his introductory to business courses and he was an active participant in several sports, but he was “just missing something”. So he signed up for the beginner’s painting class, a mish-mash of freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors like himself, and now six months later, here he was trying to paint cellphones and flowers.

But David Rose wasn’t a part of this class. He was just always here. Patrick was able to catch the tail end of his conversation with the art teacher at the beginning of the year, explaining David’s presence.

_“I could just really use my free period working on my portfolio for my applications. I’ll sit in the corner, away from everyone else. I promise, you won’t even notice I’m here.”_

Except, it was very easy to notice David Rose. Or at least for Patrick it was.

Patrick isn’t popular. Not that he ever wants to be. But he was known; by his classmates, his teachers, his teammates. David Rose on the other hand chose to be as anonymous as he could be. He wore only black and white clothing, kept to himself and barely socialized with the other seniors. But his attempts to be anonymous were futile given who his family was. Ultra-rich millionaires with more money than Patrick could ever dream of. Not to mention his younger sister Alexis is a precocious junior who made friends with _everybody_. But still, David was an enigma.

In the quiet recesses of Patrick’s mind, he’s always wanted to talk to David Rose. Just once. Try to see past the mystery to see who is actually there. 

_I should just talk to him. It’s not a big deal._

Patrick steals one more glance towards David, before turning back to his canvas, lifting his brush to paint his idea of a tulip. 

* * *

David is washing his brushes when he feels someone behind him. He shuts off the water and turns around to be face to face with Patrick Brewer. 

David doesn’t have much of an opinion of Patrick. They never shared classes together until now, but really they were just co-existing in the same room rather than being classmates. David knew Patrick had a reputation for being nice to everyone and playing some sports. But other than that, they’ve never spoken. 

“Sorry,” he mutters softly, moving out of the way to grab paper towels to dry his brushes. Patrick doesn’t say anything and turns on the water to wash his own.

David is finishing up drying when he notices the faucet. “Are you using cold water to wash the brushes?” He blurts out.

Patrick looks up at him in surprise, pausing his cleaning. He looks at David and then he looks back down at his hands holding the brushes under running cold water.

“Um, yes?”

David sighs, putting down his brushes gently on the counter. “You need warm water to clean brushes properly. It helps get all the paint out of them or else they’ll dry up from residual paint and be ruined. It’s been six months since the beginning of the school year, have you been cleaning all of your brushes like this?”

Patrick simply looks at him sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “Uh, maybe?”

David shakes his head and reaches his hand out to turn on the hot tap with the cold.

“Have all your brushes been fine?”

“Well, now that you mention it, I’ve had to throw some out.”

David tsks, keeping his hand under the running water, feeling for the correct temperature. When the water is warm enough, David takes one of the brushes out of Patrick’s hands and begins to clean them.

“Different paints require different temperatures in water for cleaning. When you’re using acrylic paint, use warm water with the soap. Gently massage the bristles and when the water runs clear, the brush is clean.”

“Huh. I guess I should have paid attention during the first class when Ms. Moore was explaining all of this instead of dozing off.”

David’s mouth quirks up slightly, a hint of a smirk shining through. “Yes, you definitely should have.”

“Or I should have just talked to you.”

David’s head jerks up and his eyes meet Patricks. He’s grinning, his eyes twinkling, his smile kind. David clears his throat awkwardly. “Um, yeah, maybe.”

Patrick begins to wash the other brushes with David, their hands bumping every now and then, sending an uncomfortable spark up David’s arm. 

David steps away from the sink and reaches for the paper towels for the correctly cleaned brushes.

“Um, after you’re done washing them, make sure you dry them thoroughly. You don’t want the metal to rust,” David mutters quietly, not looking up at Patrick. “And that’s it.”

David glances carefully at Patrick, who is still _smiling_ for some reason. 

“Thanks, you saved all these innocent paint brushes from a horrible, horrible death.”

David feels his mouth twitch upwards again, unable to help himself.

“Yes, we wouldn’t want that. They suffer enough in the hands of amateurs.”

Patrick’s eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment David thinks his comment was just a toe over the line, but then Patrick lets out a laugh, the sound warming something in David’s bones.

“Definitely worse than an amateur. Pre-schoolers who finger paint can probably wipe the floor with me.”

David laughs loudly before slapping a hand onto his mouth in surprise. Did he really just laugh? David can’t recall a single time he’s laughed so loudly while at school. But Patrick just continues to grin at him and the warmth David feels begins to increase. 

Before either of them can say anything else, the bell rings, jarring them out of their thoughts. They both take a step back from the sink, the distance between them slightly bigger.

Patrick rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, uh, I better go. I have, um, baseball practice now.”

“Mm, yes, sports. How riveting,” David says, cringing at his words. But instead of being bothered, Patrick’s smile returns, even brighter than before. David feels his own returning to his face. 

“It can be, sometimes,” Patrick responds. 

They smile at each other for just one more beat before Patrick turns around to walk back to his station. David also turns to his and picks up his bag, his hands slightly shaky as he tries to fumble it closed. He meets Patrick at the door and together they walk out. They turn to face each other, feeling slightly awkward. But Patrick breaks it, walking backwards, still facing David and raises his hand to wave goodbye. “Bye, David.”

David raises his own hand feebly, waving back at him. “Bye, Patrick.” And with that David turns around, his long legs carrying him quickly down the hall in the other direction.

_What the fuck was that?_

* * *

Patrick is untying his cleats when his mind wanders to David again. Truthfully, David was the only thing Patrick thought about during all of practice, until he was hit in the shoulder by a baseball because he zoned out thinking about David’s cologne that smelled spicy and warm with a hint of citrus and his hands washing the paint brushes-

“Look alive, Brewer!” Patrick snaps back to attention enough to catch the baseball in his hand. He looks up to see Brock smirking at him. Brock, a cocky piece of shit and his competition for shortstop on the team. Patrick never liked him, always weary of him and his arrogance. 

“Still preoccupied, Brewer? I thought getting hit by the ball today was enough to snap you out of it.” Patrick tosses the ball back to Brock who catches it easily with one hand.

“Just a lot on my mind today,” he mutters, pulling his uniform off. Brock leans against the lockers and observes Patrick carefully. Spring training has been particularly rough this year, with Brock constantly on his ass about wanting to be starting shortstop. Especially since he’s been keen on bringing his teasing outside of the field as well. 

“I know that look,” he says smugly, tossing the ball up in the air with his hand. 

“What look,” Patrick asks tiredly. 

“You’re thinking of a girl,” he says with a shit-eating grin. 

“What?” Patrick asks annoyed. “I am most definitely not thinking about a girl.”

“Okay, a guy then. You’re thinking of _someone_ ,” he says. “Hey fellas, I think Brewer has a crush!”

His other teammates from the locker room begin to whoop and holler. 

“Cut it out, I’m not thinking about anyone,” Patrick says, pulling on his t-shirt. 

_Yes you are_ , the voice in his head says. 

“Okay, okay, fine. _Don’t_ tell me. I’ll get it out of you eventually,” Brock says, finally walking towards his locker to change. 

Patrick is done changing and makes his way out of the locker room when the team captain stops him.

“Brewer, let me talk to you for a second,” Sam says. Patrick follows him outside of the locker room, to the door of the equipment room. Patrick has always liked Sam, he was a good team captain, a no nonsense kind of guy. 

“I just wanted to check in with you, you seemed a little off today,” Sam said.

Patrick rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I’ve just had a lot on my mind today. I promise I won’t let it happen again.”

Sam nods, “Make sure. I can’t have my shortstop losing focus.” 

Patrick brightens immediately, “Shortstop? Really?”

“Yeah, you earned it,” Sam said clapping him on the shoulder. “Just make sure you keep focus.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks Sam,” Patrick mutters, overcome with happiness. 

Sam grins at him, “Don’t let it get to your head, like _some_ people would.”

Patrick grins back and nods. 

* * *

That night, Patrick is laying in his bed, his mind wandering to the day’s events. If this were him last year, his mind would only be on baseball. But tonight that’s on the back burner.

David Rose is consuming Patrick’s thoughts and he can’t seem to stop himself. 

Sure today was the first time they ever spoken to each other and maybe the excitement of it is what’s making his mind wander back to David, washing the brushes under the warm water with him, their hands brushing against each other and David smiling at him, his mouth crooked laughing at him and so beautiful-

Patrick freezes on his bed, his mind rewinding to what he just thought.

_Beautiful. David Rose is beautiful._

But Patrick can’t be surprised. David always has been, even since freshman year. 

Patrick was leaving his biology class during his first official day of high school when David entered through the door after him. Patrick remembers smelling David’s cologne, spicy and warm with a hint of citrus wafting up to his nose, Patrick suddenly struck. He watched David settle into a desk, dressed in all black from head to toe with his hair perfectly coifed. His eyebrows were knit together, dark and thick framing his face, round with youth but a hint of sharpness peaking through, his eyes intense, focused on unpacking his bag. Patrick was still standing in the doorway watching until the bell rang. Patrick was broken out of his spell and he quickly ran down the hall to his next class late. But he couldn’t shake the image of David from his head all day.

_That was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen._

His room is quiet except for his breathing and his heartbeat pulsing in his ears.

Huh. 

* * *

David feels jittery the moment he walks into the art room the next day. His palms feel sweaty, his heart is pounding, and he hates it. His mind immediately wanders back to the previous day, brushing hands with Patrick Brewer, laughing with him. 

_Stop it. He was just being nice._

David walks to his corner, setting his bag down on the floor. He’s setting up his station when he sees Patrick enter in the corner of his eye. David doesn’t know what to do. Does he wave? Does he ignore him? Does he “fist-pump” him?

_“Just ask him out,”_ his best friend Stevie said last night as they studied in his bedroom.

_“Absolutely not! It’s definitely nothing like that. And I don’t even know what his preferences are!”_

Stevie just shrugged her shoulders before turning back to her textbook, _“Fine, do nothing and just_ fantasize _about Patrick Brewer instead.”_

Stevie was not helpful. 

David is mentally torturing himself when Patrick thankfully saves him by raising his hand and waving at him. So he waves back, meekly, his mouth twitched upwards into an awkward smile. David watches Patrick take a seat in his station, breaking the moment. David takes that as his cue to put his headphones on to drown out the world around him.

_See, being nice_.

* * *

It’s the same for the next week. David entering the art room first, settling himself in with one eye watching the door. And when Patrick enters, they wave at each other. Sometimes Patrick is the first one to wave and sometimes it’s David. Things change on a regular Wednesday when someone sets their backpack next to him with a loud thump that shakes David’s easel a bit. David looks up, startled, ready to say a snarky comment when his eyes meet Patrick Brewer’s. 

He’s smiling at David, a dopey grin on his face, his eyes staring right into David’s.

David sees Patrick’s mouth move, no sound coming out. That’s when David realizes he has his headphones still on, blasting music into his ears. Although he can’t remember hearing any music from the moment Patrick decided to encroach on his space, all sound seeming to have disappeared. 

He takes his headphones off and blinks at Patrick. “Huh?”

“Hi,” he says happily. David sputters and watches Patrick drag an easel right next to David’s.

“Uh, what-what are you doing?” David asks.

“Setting up my station,” Patrick responds cheekily. 

“Um, _okay_ , but what, um what are you doing…here?”

“Well, I was thinking and it’s pretty obvious that I need some help with in this class. So I figured if I sat next to you, maybe some of your talent and knowledge will rub off on me.”

David blushes slightly at the compliment, a grin slowly forming on his face. “It took you six months to learn how to clean a paint brush, I think it might be too late to save you,” he says teasingly.

Patrick regards David quietly for a moment, his eyes never leaving David’s. “Well, maybe you can,” he murmurs. 

The breath in David’s lungs leave him, and they stare at each other for a moment longer before Patrick is standing up. David watches him walk to the drying racks, giving him a second to _try_ and compose himself.

_Okay, but what the fuck was that?_

Patrick returns with his canvas, setting it on his easel. He turns to David, a sheepish grin on his face. But now David is focused on the monstrosity that is before him.

“What the fuck is _that_?”

* * *

_I just want to get to know him. That’s all._

He would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been thinking of David every moment he could. Ever since their first conversation, Patrick wanted more. He walked into the art room every day for the next week with words on the tip of his tongue, ready to speak to him. But he lost his nerve every time, choosing to wave at David instead. 

Then last night he lay awake in his bed and decided that he just had to do something about it. So he watched David enter the art room from around the corner outside before giving himself a pep talk. 

_Okay, Brewer. Just go in there and sit next to him. If he’s next to you he has to talk to you. It’s foolproof._

Patrick really doesn’t know why he’s putting in so much work just to talk to David Rose. But he can’t stop himself. The more he thinks about David, the more his curiosity grows. He also can’t get enough of David’s laugh, it ringing in his ears during any quiet moment he has to himself. He wants to hear it again. He wants to be the one to make him laugh.

His heart is pounding in his ears when he sets his backpack down next to David, his mouth breaking out into a grin watching David jump. His smile grows wider watching David stumble over his words, clearly flustered.

_He’s cute when he’s nervous_.

Patrick is surprised when the thought comes to his mind. But he keeps it from showing in his face and files it away to think about later when he’s in bed. To sleep. In bed to go to sleep. 

_Jesus._

And Patrick can’t help but bark out a laugh at David’s disgust for his painting. 

“I told you I needed help,” Patrick responds with a grin, fully aware of how atrocious his piece is.

“You don’t need help, you need to burn it,” he says with a grimace.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m not artistically inclined like you are. What is it that you’re working on anyways? Can I see it?"

* * *

David blinks at him in surprise. No one has ever asked to see David’s work. He knew his paintings leaned more towards surrealism, too abstract for this small town. Instead of saying anything, David stands up and walks to the drying racks to retrieve his canvas.

He hesitates slightly, biting his lip nervously, before perching it on his easel, his eyes looking away from Patrick’s. 

There’s silence in the air for a beat and David finally lifts his head up to explain, but stops himself as he takes in Patrick’s face. His eyes are rapidly scanning the painting, taking in the vibrant purples and violent reds, his eyes slightly wide in awe. 

Before David can say anything, Patrick speaks. “It’s beautiful,” he breathes out softly.

A lump forms in David’s throat. No one has ever reacted so openly to David’s work before. His parents have been quietly supportive, providing him with endless supplies and lessons. His sister always says, “It’s pretty,” before going back to her phone. Stevie was by far the best when it came to providing emotional support, but not by much. 

_“It looks good, but I bet it would look better if I were high”_

David pursed his lips in annoyance, but not before accepting the joint Stevie had passed to him anyways. 

But here is Patrick, looking at David’s work as if it actually means something to him. 

Patrick finally looks up at David, his eyes once again bearing into David’s soul, as if he’s asking him to see him too. 

David clears his throat and makes himself look away, his eyes stinging slightly. 

“It’s um, it’s inspired by your previous prompt actually. I, uh, overheard Ms. Moore and an idea came to me.”

_Paint a wish. Any wish you find yourself thinking about often._

David had been drawing in his sketchbook when his ears perked up at the prompt, one of the very rare times he wasn’t wearing his headphones. As it always happens, colors and shapes started to form in David’s head, crowding his mind until David had to relent and begin to paint. The wish came to David quickly, as it always does.

_I wish for someone who sees me. All of me and stays. Always stay._

He chose to stick to just hues of purple and red, wanting the painting to look as aggressive as David felt for the wish. Unrelenting and eager. Hopeful and disappointed. 

“What’s your wish?”

David startles, his eyes wide. His eyes meet Patrick’s, open and eager.

“Oh, um, it’s, uh nothing, nothing important, it’s stupid,” he finished weakly, looking away. Silence stretches between them, suffocating David. 

“Well whatever it is, it’s wonderful,” Patrick says breaking the silence.

David lifts his eyes to Patrick’s again, expecting to see humor or pity. But instead he sees kindness, genuine, unfiltered kindness. 

“I hope it comes true for you David.” Patrick says softly. 

David feels his face flush, a spark shooting up his back and up his head. 

_Will you stay?_

David blinks rapidly and shakes his head. 

_Will you stay? If I asked?_

“Thanks,” he says quietly. 

_Stop. He’s being nice. Don’t think further._

David clears his throat awkwardly, looking everywhere but Patrick. “I’m going to go get brushes,” he mutters quietly, needing to leave just to take a moment for himself.

But he notices that he needs to force himself a little bit more to walk away. 

* * *

Patrick watches David walk to the sink, cursing to himself.

_You made things weird. Way to go!_

But Patrick couldn’t help himself. Because he does hope for David to get his wish, whatever it is. He looks at the painting again, still struck by it, his heart beating loudly. 

Two figures, separated by violent waves of red and purple, reaching for each other, their fingers just barely touching. 

It was loud and hopeful and sad, impossible for you to tear your eyes away from it. 

Patrick always saw David’s paintings from a distance, peaking over shoulders from across the room. To see one this close was overwhelming to say the least. Overwhelming and _beautiful_.

Patrick suddenly found himself craving for more. Needing to see everything David Rose has ever created. 

_Oh boy. You’re in it now, Brewer._

* * *

The next couple of weeks fly by quickly. Patrick continues to sit next to David, teasing him from behind his easel. David is reserved at first, slightly skittish at Patrick’s presence. Patrick thinks to himself one day that maybe he should lay off a little bit before entering the art room, feeling like he needs to give David space. But then he sees two easels already set up in David’s corner, dark hair peaking up from behind one. Patrick thinks about the warmth that spread through his body later that night. 

Patrick also notices that David stopped bringing in his headphones. 

Before long, David begins to jab back at Patrick just as hard, his eyes alight with mischief and confidence. Patrick finds himself laughing more and more, happier than he’s ever felt in a very long time. 

Being with David helps Patrick relax before baseball practice which has slowly become more and more unbearable because of Brock. Ever since Sam named him starting shortstop for the season, Brock has been on a vendetta to make Patrick miserable. His teasing has begun to turn malicious, trying to get a rise out of Patrick. 

Patrick tries his best not to take the bait, but he feels his resolve wavering, weakening every day. 

But looking forward to seeing David always brings him back, grounding him. Patrick often wonders if David would ever come see Patrick play if he asked. What would it be like to look up from the field, scan the stands and see David there? Him and his crooked smile, looking right at him.

_Maybe if I told him there were hotdogs he’ll come._

The bell rings, signaling the end of school. Patrick and David are chatting as they pack up, arguing over the societal impact of _13 going on 30_. 

“Okay, okay, but I just don’t understand its appeal. People can’t just wish for do-overs!”

“It’s not about do-overs! It’s about learning from your mistakes and growing as a person. Ugh! Were you not paying attention at all?” David asks incredulously.

Patrick chuckles at David’s frustration. “I guess not. I only watched it because my cousin wanted to and she didn’t want to go by herself. I don’t remember much now that I think about it.”

David huffs and crosses his arms. “You need to rewatch it. Watch it _correctly_.”

Patrick smiles at him. “Maybe we can watch it together?”

Patrick freezes when he realizes what he just said. It’s then he notices that both he and David are standing in the hallway, in their normal spots where they usually wave goodbye and leave. This is the first time their conversation has extended past the classroom. 

He looks nervously at David, afraid he might have said something out of line. David is tense in his shoulders, a look of confusion on his face. But then it softens into a gentle smile and Patrick relaxes immediately.

“That sounds nice. Will there be snacks?”

Patrick grins, laughing at David, his stomach twisting with butterflies. 

_What would happen if I just stayed here with you? Would you stay here with me?_

They’re grinning at each other, a ridiculous spark bouncing between them, when a voice cuts through the air.

“Brewer!”

Patrick turns around sharply to see Brock walking towards him. Patrick opens his mouth to say something, but David cuts him off. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Patrick.” Patrick watches him walk away until he disappears around the corner. 

Annoyance races through Patrick, his patience for Brock completely gone. 

He turns around glaring at Brock, but it settles into confusion when he sees his face. He has a shit-eating grin on his face, his eyes bright. 

“What do you want Brock?” he asks suspiciously.

Brock’s grin widens. “I didn’t know you were friends with David Rose.”

Patrick tenses, not liking hearing David’s name come out of Brock’s mouth.

“We’re in the same class. I was asking him a question.”

Brock hums at Patrick’s answer and shrugs his shoulders.

“Okay then. Come on Brewer, don’t want to be late for practice!” He claps a hand hard onto Patrick’s shoulder, but Patrick doesn’t buckle. He takes the hit, his lips pressed into a hard line. 

Brock walks in front of him, and Patrick stays behind watching him. Something he saw in Brock’s eyes makes him feel uneasy, but he can’t pinpoint what it was.

He shakes his head and walks to follow Brock to the locker rooms. He’ll think about it later. 

* * *

David doesn’t realize he’s looked forward to seeing Patrick every day until one day he doesn’t show up for class. He’s already set up their easels, clean paintbrushes and a can of water on the table in between them. 

_Class started five minutes ago. He’s probably just running late._

But five minutes turns to twenty, to thirty, to forty, until the bell rings signally the end of the day. David jumps at the sound, looking around, seeing all the other students grab their belongings and exit the room. It’s not until everyone is out that David realizes he hasn’t painted anything, his hand holding a brush limply in his hand, body turned towards the door. 

David blinks before setting the brush down. 

* * *

Patrick is beyond frustrated after practice. Not only was Brock a colossal jerk today, he missed art class with David because coach wanted to start practice an hour early.

Spending his time in spring training for baseball was something Patrick usually looked forward to. But since it’s been eating into the time he spends with David, Patrick finds himself more agitated than excited. 

He really wanted to see David’s reaction when he told him his idea of painting an army of mutant alien zombies for his “out of this world” assignment. 

“Incorrect,” Patrick imagines David saying. He grins to himself for the first time today. 

_David._

Patrick shakes his head, putting David in the back of his mind for now as he changes out of his uniform. 

He's just about finished when he hears someone say David’s name and his ears perk up.

“Yeah Alexis Rose? David Rose’s little sister? She and I have a date this Saturday,” one of his teammates says. 

“Already onto her next victim. Aren’t you the fourth guy she’s dated this month?”

“Yeah, she’s ruthless. But can you blame her? She’s a girl looking for quality in a sea of mediocre.”

“Oh, and you’re the quality she’s looking for?”

“I can be!” A bunch of guys laugh, the sounds of shuffling around bouncing off the walls. 

Patrick picks up his backpack, when Brock says, “You know who intrigues me? David Rose.” 

Patrick freezes. He looks up to see Brock regarding him carefully, leaning against the locker, his expression calm and smug. 

“What about him?” someone asks.

Brock shrugs and pushes himself from the lockers. “Just that no one has ever really spoken to him. But he is known to be open to _everything_. Rumor has it he’ll say yes to just about anyone.”

Patrick keeps his face neutral, but can’t stop himself from gripping his bag tightly in his hand, anger coursing through his veins. Before he can listen to anymore, Patrick storms out of the locker room, his body shaking. He makes it to the hallway before he hears his name. 

“Brewer!” 

Patrick stops immediately. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, exhaling roughly through his nose. He turns around to face Brock, forcing his face to look neutral even though his body is vibrating with anger.

“What’s up Brock?”

Brock smirks at him menacingly and opens his mouth the say something when he’s cut off by another voice.

“Patrick?”

Patrick turns around quickly, his heart pounding. Standing at the other end of the hallway is David, dressed in a fuzzy black and white sweater and ripped black jeans. He’s looking at Patrick nervously, his bag slung on one shoulder, hands tugging on his sleeves.

_David._

Patrick immediately feels the tension and anger leave his body, a smile settling on his face as he looks at David. 

He’s biting his lip, looking between him and Brock. “I um, I was working in the art room until now when I realized that you didn’t come to class. So-so I thought I should, um, come and see if-if you were..okay?”

_He came to look for me._

Patrick’s heart is pounding in his ears as he takes David in. Joy grows within Patrick and spreads through his body, up to his head and down to his toes. 

“Yeah,” Patrick breathes out, stepping closer to him. He smiles at David, who smiles back at him shyly. “Coach had us start practice early today so I had to miss class. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you.”

David shakes his head, his mouth curled up into a crooked grin. “It’s okay,” he says softly.

“David Rose,” Brock says from behind him. The tension returns to Patrick’s body, his body hating hearing David’s name in Brock’s mouth again. 

David also tenses up, his smile fading, his lips pressed into a hard line. 

“Brewer and I were in the middle of a conversation. Do you mind if we finish up?” Brock says from behind Patrick.

David’s eyebrows furrow together, but he nods his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Patrick.” He steals one more glance at Patrick before turning around and walking away.

_Stay._

Once David has turned the corner, Patrick turns around to Brock, annoyed and frustrated. 

“What do you want Brock.”

“Just wanted to talk. You know, just a couple of buddies getting to know each other better,” he says with a smirk. “Like I said before, I noticed you and Rose seemed pretty chummy. Anything going on there?”

Patrick inhales sharply through his nose, not wanting to discuss David with Brock.

“Like _I_ said Brock, we’re just in the same class.”

“Right, right,” Brock replies, picking off a piece of lint off of his shoulder and flicking it away bored. “It just looked like there were some _sparks_ between you too. Just seemed interesting. If you’re looking to discover some things about yourself, David Rose just might be that person for you. He’ll fuck just about anyone.”

Patrick feels his stomach drop, anger racing through his veins, his fists clenched tightly.

“Don’t talk about David like that,” Patrick says, his tone frigid and even.

Brock’s eyes widen slightly for a moment before the menacing grin comes back.

“Oh, so you _do_ like him,” Brock says. Patrick is about to argue when Brock cuts him off, “Well, then what I’m about to propose next might intrigue you.”

Patrick closes his mouth and looks at him carefully, his mind telling him to walk away immediately to end the game. But Brock has brought David into their conversation and he can’t bring himself to tear away. 

Brock smiles at him, and leans against the wall. “I was thinking, and you know what would be fun? A bet.”

“What?” Patrick asks confused.

“Some friendly competition, Brewer. Something to spice things up.”

“What kind of bet?” Patrick asks suspiciously.

Brock’s grin turns dangerous. “I bet you can’t get David Rose to sleep with you.”

Patrick recoils backwards with shock before his jaw sets in anger and his eyes darken. Waves of emotions crash into him as he glares at Brock. His fists clench tightly, shaking under the pressure as Patrick wills himself not to launch his body towards him. 

“No,” he spits out in disgust. 

_Don’t punch him. It’s not worth it. Walk away._

Patrick pivots on his foot and walks away from Brock, his shoulders tense, willing his heart to slow down and forcing his feet forward as much as they want to pummel into Brock. 

“Fine, maybe I was wrong about what I saw. I have to say though, David Rose looked really good just now,” Brock calls out.

Patrick’s feet stop, his body frozen. 

“Maybe I’ll ask him out, since it doesn’t seem like you’re interested.”

Patrick’s eyes lose focus for a moment as the world swoops around him.

_Maybe I’ll ask him out._

His mind goes blank before he suddenly imagines Brock and David together. David laughing with Brock, David smiling at Brock, David kissing Brock-

He shakes his head, his heart constricting painfully, suddenly having difficulty breathing. Jealousy rears its ugly head at Patrick, a lump forming in his throat.

_He’s not your boyfriend! Or even your friend! Why should you care? You’re not even gay…right?_

Patrick closes his eyes tightly, willing his heart to slow down, to stop the blood from rushing in his ears. 

“Just thought I might provide a friendly _push_ , you know, some incentive to make your move. But hey, if he’s fair game, I might just take my shot.”

Patrick feels overwhelmed, unable to understand why he’s having such a strong reaction to the thought of David being with someone else. 

_It’s because of Brock. He’s terrible and he would be terrible for David. David should be with someone who cares for him. A good person. Protect David._

But how? Protect David how?

_He doesn’t have to know._

Patrick’s eyes snap open. 

_David doesn’t have to know. Take the bet and keep Brock away._

Patrick closes his eyes one more time before turning around the face Brock. He looks satisfied, confident that he’s hit a nerve.

_David doesn’t have to know._

Patrick takes in his options, knowing that he has no right to impose himself onto David’s life like that. David should be the one to decide who he wants to have in his life. But looking into Brock’s eyes and seeing his determination to hurt Patrick makes the choice clear. 

“Fine,” Patrick says lowly. “But I’m not going to sleep with him. That-that would be wrong.”

Brock crosses his arms and thinks. “Okay then, how about this,” Brock says taking one step forward. “I bet you can’t get David Rose to be your boyfriend by the time of the Spring Carnival.”

Patrick lets out a harsh breath. The Spring was in two months, tucked into the last week of May. It is the largest fair their small town throws every year. Everyone shows up. 

_Boyfriend? David as my boyfriend?_

Patrick has a two months to convince David to be his boyfriend. Patrick’s mind is spinning, not able to handle the sudden thought of dating David Rose. Does he want David to be his boyfriend? Does he even _want_ a boyfriend? He just wanted to get to know him, maybe be his friend. But now Patrick’s mind is jumping everywhere, trying to real his mind back in. 

“As proof, he needs to kiss you in front of everyone.”

_Kiss David._

Patrick closes his eyes and imagines that. He imagines David smiling at him, one side of his mouth quirked up, eyes bright and open and _beautiful_ and pulling him in, weaving his hands through his dark hair-

_Kissing David._

Patrick breathes deeply, his mind set. 

“Just a kiss?” Patrick asks, hating himself a little.

Brock smiles wide, his eyes lit up with excitement. “Just a kiss,” he repeats.

_Just a kiss_ , Patrick thinks to himself, the thought heavy on his mind.

“And what does the winner get out of this?”

Brock goes quiet, keeping his eyes steady on Patrick. “Shortstop.”

Patrick blinks at him with confusion, shocked by Brock’s response. “You want my spot?”

Brock nods at him, his face suddenly set and serious, the humor and teasing gone from his face. “Loser quits the team.”

Patrick knows this is a bad idea. He knows he shouldn’t be wagering David like this, he knows that the outcome of this bet will cause more harm than good. He knows this is wrong. But the pent up aggression he’s felt since the beginning of the season swells inside him. He’s kept it all inside, wanting to be a team player and move on from the nonsense. But Brock has been able to push every button inside of Patrick and now that David is involved, Brock has delivered the final blow to Patrick’s patience and he can’t bring himself to be a good person. He wants to hurt Brock just as much as he’s hurt him. 

“Fine,” Patrick says. “But under one condition.”

Brock nods at him to continue. 

“You’re not allowed to speak to David at all, ever.”

Brock’s eyebrows raise up high before his face settles back into a smug grin. 

“Done,” he says. “But I’ll be watching you, Brewer. You wouldn’t want David to find out about our little wager.”

With that Brock walks away, leaving Patrick alone in the hallway.

_Fuck._

* * *

_Fuck._

David thinks to himself on his way home from school.

_Why did I go looking for him? He’s not my friend._

But he wants him to be. After the final bell rang, David stayed in the art room trying to catch up on the work he clearly did not do during his free period. Not that he was able to get much done, his mind still very much occupied on Patrick. 

He finally gave up around five forty-five, gathering his things and leaving the room, locking the door behind him like Ms. Moore asked.

He was about to walk down where he usually goes, but he hesitated outside the door, looking at the spot where Patrick usually stands when they say their good-byes. Before he knows it, his feet are carrying him down the hallway to the locker rooms.

It’s none of his business. There are thousands of logical reasons as to why Patrick didn’t come to class today. David doesn’t know why he’s looking for Patrick.

_You’re always looking for Patrick._

David pushes that thought away. 

He turns the corner and sees him. Well, he sees his back. Relief floods through David, berating himself for being so ridiculous. But Patrick isn’t alone. He’s with Brock. 

David feels tense looking at Brock. There was always something about him that bothered David. Something that made him suspicious. 

“Patrick?” David calls out hesitantly. Patrick whips around the see him, his face set in annoyance. David thinks he did something wrong and is about to apologize until Patrick’s face relaxes, his shoulders dropping, his mouth turning upwards into a smile. 

David feels his own smile forming, happiness spreading in his chest, his heart squeezing painfully.

_Found you_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't begin to describe how I felt reading everyone's beautiful comments!! Honestly, you guys are amazing.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!_

Patrick is pacing from around the corner of the art room, away from everyone the next day. 

_Why did you take the bait? Everything is going to be messed up now._

Patrick couldn’t sleep the night before, feeling conflicted towards his feelings for the bet and keeping this from David. 

He stops pacing and takes a deep breath.

_I did it for David. I did it to make sure Brock doesn’t bother him. Brock’s a jerk, he wouldn’t know how to treat David. He doesn’t deserve to know him._

Patrick shakes his head to clear his mind. Instead his conscience speaks loudly in his mind. 

_You also did it to hurt Brock. No, this isn’t right. I’m going to tell him about the bet. I’m going to tell David about the bet and warn him about Brock. I don’t need to keep the bet to protect David. I’m going to tell him the truth._

Patrick sets his jaw and walks to the art room. His shoulders are tense, his hands balled into fists. But as he nears the room, his footsteps slow down until they stop completely.

_But what about kissing David?_

Because as angry as he is at Brock, Patrick can’t shake the thought of kissing David out of his head.

He thinks back to his dating history, trying to make sense of it all. He dated Rachel on and off for between his sophomore and junior year. He liked her, he really did. She was smart, funny, pretty and kind. She got along with his parents and came to every one of his games. She was in every way the perfect girlfriend.

And he kissed her a lot. They fooled around in her parent's basement one night while they were out seeing a movie. It was awkward and fast, but isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?

It was exciting in the same way of doing something you’re not supposed to do. The anticipation and the fear of getting caught. Doing something new for the first time.

But there was always something missing. Every time he and Rachel kissed, Patrick was distracted trying to look for that _thing,_ not knowing what it was but knowing it was out there. He would focus on how his neck felt itchy by the tag of his shirt popping out, how sticky Rachel’s strawberry lip balm was on his mouth, and some times he had to keep telling himself that kissing was fun, almost as if he needed to convince himself it was.

But Patrick continued on, kissing Rachel, kissing Jennifer from summer camp by the bonfire pit, kissing Makayla from his algebra class behind the bleachers after school. 

He convinced himself that he didn’t feel the sparks or the fireworks because it was still all new to him and that once he was comfortable, things would be better. 

But now the idea of kissing David has entered his mind, suddenly his hands feel clammy, his heart is speeding up, and he feels warm and tingly all over.

_What if he gets angry at me? What if he never wants to speak to me again?_

Patrick rubs his hands over his eyes, frustrated and confused. It’s possible that David will be angry at Patrick for even taking the bet. For talking about him like that behind his back as if he were nothing. The thought of David never speaking to him again makes his stomach twist painfully.

_He doesn’t have to know._

The selfish thought once again enters his mind, becoming louder and louder and overtaking his conscience. 

_He doesn’t have to know. Pretend like everything is normal. Take the bet, keep Brock away, kiss David._

Patrick shoves the thought in the back of his mind with the rest of his thoughts, deciding to think about it later tonight. He’ll figure something out, but for now he just wants to talk to David.

Patrick walks into the art room and his eye immediately goes to their corner.

David is there first, as he always is. He’s wearing a white sweatshirt with the words, “Love Me Tender” written across it. His hair is swooped up, his dark eyebrows drawn together as he focuses on his canvas. The sleeves of his sweater are pushed up exposing his forearms, flexing as he moves his paintbrush. David is biting his lip between his teeth, his bottom lip looking plump and red. Patrick suddenly feels very warm as Elvis Presley begins to play in his head. 

_Shit_.

David’s eyes look up and catch Patrick’s. He smiles at him, waving. Patrick smiles back tightly, breaking out of his trance and his nerves kicking up again.

“Hi,” David says softly once Patrick is close enough to hear. 

“Hey,” Patrick breathes out, putting his bag down on the ground. 

“Welcome back, it’s been unbearable with all these people without you,” David says, gesturing his hand towards the other students who are all sitting on the opposite side of the room, nowhere near them. 

Patrick’s mouth quirks, feeling himself relax. “Yes, I can tell their presence probably distracted you from creating your next expressionistic masterpiece.”

“They did, I couldn’t get a single thing done without you blocking them out of my peripheral vision."

“Ah,” Patrick nods. “Well, I’m glad to know I was so missed.”

David blushes to himself and looks away. “Shut up,” he mutters with a crooked grin. 

Patrick smiles wider, feeling his chest tingle. 

“Have you thought about your assignment?” David asks, washing his brush in the can of water between them. 

“Oh, yeah. I was, um, thinking of, painting mutant alien zombies?” Patrick finishes lamely.

David crinkles his nose. “That’s quite a…choice?”

“The correct choice, one might say.”

“Incorrect.” 

Patrick smiles brightly at David’s answer. “I don’t know, I think it might be pretty daring. I was thinking of also giving the aliens cowboy hats for an added flair.”

David rolls his eyes at Patrick, coating his brush with black paint.

“Daring is not the word I would use to describe that,” he mutters

Patrick just keeps smiling at him, settling down at his own easel.

They work together quietly, Patrick stealing glances at David every now and then. More specifically at David’s mouth. 

_Do I have to wait to kiss him at the carnival? Or can I kiss him sooner?_

Patrick is lost in his thoughts and doesn’t hear he’s being spoken to until David touches his shoulder. 

Patrick jumps in his seat, David recoiling backwards in shock.

“S-sorry! You spaced out there and I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” David says, his eyes wide.

Patrick blinks at him before responding. “No, no, don’t be sorry. I’ve just, I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

David nods sympathetically. “I get it. I’ve been a little stressed too. I should be hearing back on my college applications any day now.”

Patrick tries to ignore the heat lingering where David touched his shoulder and focuses on his words instead. 

“Nervous about a particular school?”

David bites his lip and nods. “The School of Visual Arts in New York City. I’ve always wanted to live there so I’m not looking forward to spiraling into a deep depression because of my inadequacies.” 

_New York City_. _That’s a long way from here_ , Patrick thinks to himself.

“Fancy,” Patrick responds. “But I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

David cocks his head at him, looking at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

Patrick smiles gently at David. “Because you’re brilliant.”

David looks at him surprised, but Patrick continues on. “Your work is amazing. They would be crazy not to accept you.”

David looks away from him and blushes and Patrick thinks he looks cute with his cheeks stained with a rosy color. 

“Thanks,” David says softly, peaking up at Patrick with a shy smile.

_New York City is a long way from here,_ Patrick thinks to himself selfishly as he stares at David's lips. 

_Stay._

* * *

David begrudgingly looks over Patrick’s sketch for his mutant alien zombies, the fondness spreading in his chest.

David finds himself watching Patrick more on this particular day. He watches as he fumbles around with his pencil on the canvas, sketching vague shapes. His eyebrows are furrowed together in concentration, his lips set in a hard line. Patrick’s left hand drums against his thigh, his right foot tapping on the ground below him.

_God, he’s so cute_.

David smiles watching him, happy at just the two of them existing next to each other. 

“What school are you hoping to get into?” David asks.

Patrick turns to look at him, the end of his pencil in his mouth. 

“I actually already got in back in February. Newbury,” he responds. 

David nods, “Close to home. Smart.”

“My dad graduated from there and thought it made sense I go there too. They have a lot of good classes for business majors and being close to home is an added perk.”

“Hm, and here I am choosing a school very far from home.”

“Does that scare you?” Patrick asks.

“What?”

“Being far from home?”

David stops to think about it. “A little? New York has been a dream for so long that it just seems like the next step. Like it’s bound to happen anyways.”

“What does your family think about it?”

David looks down from Patrick’s gaze and begins the fiddle with his sleeves.

“My parents are fine with it. They don’t have much of an opinion. They want me to go where I want to go, no matter where it is in the world.”

“That’s nice. They sound supportive.”

David nods tensely. “Mm, yes, they are very, um, supportive.”

Patrick looks at him confused. David has never felt the need to talk about his issues with anyone other than Stevie.

But with Patrick, he can feel the words in his throat, wanting to come out but scared. David looks into Patrick’s eyes, searching for a reason to keep his walls up. But all he sees is kindness, gently coaxing him to share his soul just a little. 

David clears his throat. “Actually, I’m not very close with my family. Like, we _care_ about each other, there’s definitely some fondness there. But we don’t really spend much time together. Never really have.” David fiddles with his sleeves, his mind racing.

“Like things are much better now! My parents are home more often, sort of, Alexis and I speak more too since she’s here with me at school. So it’s not like there’s anything _lacking_ from my life. But I don’t really have many people who I’m very close to. Except Stevie, she’s the only friend I’ve ever had, but she goes to school in the next town over which isn’t great. So I’ve always just kind of been by myself.”

David looks up and sees Patrick looking at him with a curious smile, his eyes warm. He clears his throat and asks, “What about you? Are you close with your family?”

Patrick nods. “I am, my parents and I have always gotten along. I have a bunch of cousins too.”

“Sounds nice,” David says, smiling gently. 

“It is. Big family reunions, lots of birthday parties, and everyone crowded into one house for holidays.”

David thinks about what those things look like for his family. Family reunions were trips to exotic locations, sharing one meal together before going off in separate directions. Birthday parties were really just David waking up to a lot of presents in the morning and opening them up by himself at night. The holidays sounded somewhat similar to what Patrick might have. His parents chose to throw a lavish Christmas party in their home every year, people from all over coming to celebrate with them. Live music, hor d’oeuvres, designers gowns.

“Lots of people, you must never feel lonely.”

“Actually, I do.”

David breaks out of this thoughts to look at Patrick. 

“What do you mean?”

Patrick rubs the back of his neck anxiously. “I don’t know, sometimes I don’t feel like I’m really there when I’m with my family. As if part of myself is hiding. I’m lucky to have them all, I really am. But being around so many people can be a lot sometimes. I’ve never felt comfortable enough to share all of myself with them.”

David feels a kinship with Patrick in that moment because David knows exactly what that feels like. The extravagant parties his parents throw often mean the house is filled to the brim with people. Whenever he has to weave through those crowds, chatting with them, laughing at mundane jokes, David thinks that’s when he feels the loneliest. 

“Tell me about Stevie,” Patrick suddenly asks. 

David’s eyes roll upwards as he thinks about the best way to describe her. 

“She’s sarcastic, bitter and has a strong penchant for giving me shit about everything.”

Patrick smiles wide. “Sounds like a great friend.”

* * *

Patrick chooses not to think about the bet and instead focuses on just hanging out with David instead. He’ll come around to figuring out what to do soon, he just needs more time.

And it’s much more fun talking to David. Well, more like teasing him. He’s easy to ruffle up, his responses dramatic and over the top. 

Patrick finds himself saying ridiculous things just to see how David will react.

_“I’m thinking of exclusively wearing just black and white stripes, like Beetlejuice.”_

_“I’ve decided to drop out of school and fulfill my lifelong dream of becoming a sign spinner.”_

_“Speed is Sandra Bullock’s best movie ever.”_

The last comment really riled David up, his eyes snapping towards Patrick in disgust.

“Okay, I know that you’re just shitting with me, but that was just cruel.”

Patrick laughs, washing the paint on his hands under the warm water. “Well, I’ve never seen anything else with her in it so I don’t have much to go by.”

“Seriously? _28 Days? Two Weeks Notice? Practical Magic?_ _The Lake House?_ ”

“Nope, haven’t seen any of those.”

David purses his lips together in disappointment, leaning against the counter next to Patrick. “Well, we have to add all of those to the list now.”

“The List” is an ongoing joke between the two of them, a growing collection of movies the two of them need to watch in order to “educate themselves for the real world". 

The list mostly comprises of David’s choices, a couple of Patrick’s sprinkled in there. 

_“Die Hard sounds too aggressively ominous for my taste,”_ David had said when Patrick added it to the list. 

“There might not be enough time in the world to watch everything on the list David, especially since you’ve added about five movies just now.”

“It’s essential for your growth, Patrick. I refuse to be friends with a culture-less dilettante.”

Patrick’s ears perk up, his hands pausing underneath the water. “Oh, so we’re friends?” he says teasingly. 

David’s face reddens slightly, a blush spreading from his cheeks up to the tips of his ears.

He closes his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Well, um, sure, if you-if you wanted to be, maybe,” he says flippantly. 

Patrick stares at David, his lips quirked up as he reaches for a paper towel to dry his hands. “Of course I want to be friends, David.”

David keeps his eyes closed, squeezing them, pulling his lips in and nods his head.

“Well of course you do, I mean look at me,” he says gesturing to himself. “I’m fantastic company.”

“Oh yeah, the best,” Patrick says with a neutral face, shoving his hands into his pockets. David opens his eyes and looks at him, keeping his lips in a hard line, refusing to smile, but one side twitching upwards into a crooked grin. 

Patrick’s eyes fall onto David’s lips, and not for the first time does he think about kissing the dimple next to his smile. 

_Don’t forget about the bet._

The thought forces its way back into Patrick’s mind again, souring his mood. 

_Later_

* * *

David is laying in his bed staring up at the ceiling when Stevie asks him about Patrick.

“Did you ask Patrick out yet?”

David sits up and looks down at where Stevie is currently lying on the ground with her feet propped up on his bed.

“Um, no?”

“Hm,” she says from her place on the floor. She doesn’t say anything else, choosing to keep looking up and not at him. 

“I’m not going to ask him out,” David says stubbornly.

“Hm.”

“I don’t like him like that.”

“Hm.”

“You’re annoying as fuck.”

“Hm.”

“Ugh,” David says, falling back into his pillows. He closes his eyes and a moment later he feels the bed dip beside him. 

They stay laying next to each other for several minutes, neither of them saying anything. 

For them this is perfectly normal. David still remembers the first time Stevie laid in bed with him after a nasty break up with the cute coffee boy his sophomore year of high school. She let him cry it out, not saying anything and instead letting him get his emotions out without any judgement. After he was done crying, she held his hand until they both fell asleep. 

She’s been through every one of his train wreck moments and he’s been there for hers. He trusts her emphatically and knows that she can read him like a book. Which is why it’s so _annoying_ that she can read right through him.

“Fine. I like him. A lot. He’s the nicest boy I’ve ever talked to.”

“But?”

David closes his eyes and admits all the fears he’s been keeping inside him since Patrick Brewer inserted himself into his life.

“But I know he doesn’t feel that way for me. And in the _slight_ chance that he does, I don’t want him to. Because I can really see myself liking him for a _long_ time and I don’t how I’ll be able to put myself back together when he leaves.”

Stevie is quiet, and David takes a deep breath through his nose.

“What if he doesn’t?”

David has asked himself that in his moments of weakness. An unlikely hypothetical, the “magic if”. Every night after convincing himself that there is no possibility of anything between him and Patrick, his mind wanders to the small nugget inside of him that allows him to dream just a little. David does his best to not let his mind wander there, his heart beaten down and hurt because of it. 

Dreaming of his parents being there for his birthday. Dreaming of Alexis inviting him to one of her tea parties when he was seven. Dreaming of falling in love with someone who loves him just as fiercely and stays. 

Dreaming of Patrick being that person.

_I wish for someone who sees me. All of me and stays. Always stay._

No, he can’t risk not having Patrick in his life, even if their time together has an inevitable expiration date. He’ll take what he can get. 

“I don’t want to risk that with him. I like being his friend. I want him to stay before he leaves like everyone else.”

Silence settles between them, David breathing steadily through his nose.

“I stayed,” Stevie says. 

David continues to stare up at his ceiling. Without saying anything, he takes her hand in his and laces their fingers together. 

_Thank God._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newbury is a made up school as is most of the towns that will be mentioned in the story. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr! https://maybewecandreamalittle.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

Patrick enters the art room feeling stressed and frustrated. Just before entering, he saw Brock from the corner of his eye, leaning up against the lockers and smirking at him.

_“I’ll be watching you, Brewer.”_

Patrick grunts to himself in annoyance, wanting to forget about Brock and his stupid face. 

Patrick turns to walk to his corner knowing that the sight of David will help him calm down. But David isn’t there. 

Patrick stops and blinks, looking at their corner devoid of easels, chairs, paintbrushes and David. 

He turns towards the other side of the room, knowing fully well that David would not be anywhere near there, but needing to double check anyways. 

When he doesn’t find David there, he asks Ms. Moore if she’s seen David.

“No, I haven’t heard from David. He’s not on my attendance roster so I have no idea why he’s not here.”

Patrick begrudgingly sets up an easel in their corner, feeling tense about not knowing where David is. 

_He’ll be here tomorrow. There’s nothing to worry about._

But when David doesn’t show up again the next day, Patrick can’t stop himself from worrying. 

He wishes he could contact David in some way, just to ask him if he’s okay. He feels stupid now about not having David’s phone number at least. He should have asked for it weeks ago. 

Patrick doesn’t do much in class, falling slightly behind on his assignment but not really caring. At the end of the day, he picks up his backpack and starts making his way to the locker rooms. He walks about halfway there before he stops. 

_Stevie probably knows where David is._

Patrick knows that Stevie is David’s best friend and therefore definitely knows where David is. The only problem is Patrick has never met Stevie. 

But he knows where she works.

_“She works the front desk of her family’s motel is Schitt’s Creek. She hates it there but stays for the soul-sucking obligation. Her words, not mine.”_

Schitt’s Creek is a tiny town only ten minutes away. There’s only one motel so he doesn’t have to go searching.

Patrick bites his lip. He has practice in ten minutes, his commitment to his team weighing heavily on his mind. 

_I can find him later. After practice._

Patrick sets his shoulders and keeps walking to the locker room.

_But I want to see him_ now.

Patrick’s feet stop him again. A beat passes before Patrick turns on his foot and starts walking in the opposite direction, towards the parking lot. He turns a corner and sees one of his teammates walking towards him.

“Hey Patrick-” he begins to say but Patrick cuts him off.

“I’m sick,” he blurts out. His teammate looks at his confused. “Um, okay-”

“Yeah, I’ve been vomiting all day. I really need to go home and lie down. Can you tell Sam I won’t be able to make it today?” Patrick says as he rushes past him, his feet carrying him quickly to his car.

“Sure?” Patrick doesn’t stop to say anything else, just keeps walking until he’s in his car and on the road.

Patrick knows the punishment for missing practice is eight laps around the track, but Patrick doesn’t really care. He plugs in his GPS for the Schitt’s Creek motel and thinks about David.

* * *

Patrick makes it to the motel in seven minutes when his nerves get to him.

_I can’t believe I just skipped practice to drive to Schitt’s Creek looking for David’s best friend hoping she’ll tell me where he is._

Patrick rests his head against the steering wheel, embarrassed by what he’s done. 

_Jesus Brewer, get it together. You’re here now. Might as well see this through_.

Patrick takes a deep breath before stepping out of his car. The motel has definitely seen better days, the paint of the exterior peeling a little and an empty soda can rolling past him as he makes it to the office door. He opens it carefully, peaking his head in, looking around until his eyes fall on the person at the front desk.

She’s definitely around his age, long dark hair, and her mouth set in a frown. Her face is stoic, unmoving and emotionless. She’s pretty, her dark eyes piercing through Patrick’s as he walks up to the desk.

“Hello and welcome to the Schitt’s Creek Motel,” Stevie says monotonously. “Are you checking in on this beautiful day?”

It’s been overcast for the last two days.

Patrick’s mouth twitches, wanting to grin at her. 

“Um, no, actually,” he starts. “I’m not here to check in. I’m actually looking for someone.”

“I can’t give out the names of our guests because of confidentiality reasons. We also don’t have any guests to give you names of at the moment.”

Patrick doesn’t stop the smile from forming on his face this time. Patrick likes her immediately. 

“I’m not looking for a guest. I’m actually looking for your friend.”

Stevie raises an eyebrow at him.

Patrick hesitates slightly before continuing. “Um, you’re Stevie right? Stevie Budd? I know David, David Rose? And I was wondering if-”

“Oh my God,” She says cutting him off. “You’re Patrick.”

Patrick falters, feeling very nervous under her intense gaze. “Yeah, I’m, um, I’m Patrick, uh Patrick Brewer. David and I go to the same school,” he finishes lamely.

Stevie doesn’t say anything, instead keeping her eyes, her face set. 

“I was, um, wondering if you knew where David was?” he asks nervously.

“You’re here to ask about where David is?”

“…Yes?”

“You drove all the way here, to Schitt’s Creek, to ask _me_ , someone you’ve never met, where David is?

“Yes,” Patrick answers meekly. 

Stevie continues to stare him down, Patrick shifting nervously. Suddenly a smug grin blooms on her face, her eyes shining with satisfaction.

“David is sick,” she says happily.

“Oh, is-is he okay?” Patrick asks worriedly.

“I mean, I don’t really know. From what I’ve heard it’s pretty bad. A really bad flu I think. He’s very, very ill, maybe even dying. He could barely speak to me on the phone.”

His stomach drops, concern spreading throughout his body.

“If you have some time though, I think you should go and visit him.”

“Yeah?” Patrick perks up at the idea. 

Stevie nods her head and takes out a piece of paper and begins to write something on it. “Sure, but only if you’re up for it. He is _very_ sick. Here’s his address just in case.” She passes him the piece of paper.

“Thanks,” Patrick murmurs, staring at the numbers and letters. 

“It was nice meeting you Patrick. Best wishes,” she says with a grin. Patrick smiles back at her.

“You too, Stevie. Thanks,” he says waving the piece of paper. He walks back to his car and sets the GPS for David’s house. 

As he’s driving, he’s going over in his head what he’s going to say to David.

_Hey friend, I just so happened to notice that you weren’t in school for the last two days and just wanted to check up on you, so I drove to visit your best friend at her job and she gave me your address. By the way can I kiss you?_

Patrick shakes his head, scowling at himself.

He needs a plan. A plan that’ll help make David feel better. 

Patrick is driving through main street when he an idea suddenly comes to him. He turns around and drives straight to the store to set his plan in motion. 

* * *

David’s house is impossible to miss. It’s a literal mansion with perfectly cut grass and beautiful lush flowers planted expertly in the front, towering high into the sky like a castle made of stone. 

Patrick feels tiny in comparison to the house, feeling very apprehensive. But he squares his shoulders and makes his way to the massive front door, his mind set on going through with his idea. He carries his supplies with his left hand and presses the doorbell with his right. He can hear the loud chimes ringing through the house, his palms becoming sweaty from nerves. He waits about a minute before one half of the large doors swings open, a short woman with her hair tied back appearing before him.

“Can I help you?” she asks.

“Yes, I-I’m a classmates of David’s? David Rose? My name is Patrick and I was just wondering if he was home?”

The woman nods and moves aside to let him in. He enters the foyer and the door shuts behind him. 

“Please wait here.” She turns on her heel and walks up the wide staircase before disappearing from his sight. 

Patrick takes this moment to take in the house and the breath is knocked out of him. He thought the mansion looked big from the outside but it was _colossal_ from the inside. The floors are made gleaming marble, the walls painted white and immaculate. Patrick peaks through the rooms nearest to him, seeing various paintings and sculptures taking up space on the walls, expensive antique furniture filling the space. The ceilings are high, stretching up farther than heaven and a beautiful crystal chandelier hanging down, glistening beautifully. 

Patrick was so distracted by taking in the home that he doesn’t notice David coming down the stairs.

“Patrick?” Patrick turns to the voice, face to face with David. He’s wearing a long black hoodie with grey sweatpants, black Uggs on his feet. His nose is red, his cheeks slightly puffy, his hair is all over the place and there are oversized, thick black glasses on his face. David Rose most definitely looks very sick and Patrick feels a warmth spreading through him as he takes him in. 

_God he’s so cute._

“What are you doing here?” David asks confused, his voice sounding congested. 

Patrick suddenly remembers his plan and thrusts the plastic bag out towards him. 

“I brought you something,” he blurts out loudly before he loses his nerve. 

David’s eyebrows draw together as he takes the bag hesitantly from Patrick’s hand. 

“What did you bring me?” he asks peering into the bag. 

“A DVD of _13 going on 30_ ,” Patrick responds sheepishly.

David’s eyes snap back to Patricks, blinking at him.

“What?”

Patrick feels his hands becoming more clammy so he rubs them against his jeans. 

“Yeah, so I, um noticed that you weren’t in class for the last two days. So I got worried and asked Stevie where you were and she said you were at home sick. So I thought I should bring you something to make you feel better?”

David is quiet for a moment, blinking at Patrick.

“You brought me a Jennifer Garner romcom because I was sick?”

“And snacks. I also brought you snacks.”

David doesn’t say anything again, choosing to just stare at Patrick. Patrick feels himself blushing, the heat spreading everywhere.

_You look like an idiot._

Patrick is about to make a very hasty exit when David smiles at him. It’s a small smile, a shy one, one that he feels is private, just for Patrick to see. 

“Thank you,” David breathes out, his eyes shining brightly. 

Patrick shakes his head, shoving his hands in his pockets not knowing what to say next. He hadn’t thought this far into his plan.

But David speaks for him, asking him the question Patrick silently hoped for.

“Do you want to stay and watch this with me?”

Patrick feels relief release throughout his body, his heart beating strong and steady.

_I’ll stay._

* * *

David is buzzing with excitement when Patrick agrees to watch the movie with him, butterflies vibrating violently in his stomach. 

Because Patrick brought him a romcom and snacks when he found out that David was sick. 

Of course, David already had this movie in various forms; on his laptop, on a streaming service, his own physical copy of it. His dad being the owner of the former Rose Video allowed David to have a massive collection of movies on hand. But still, David feels tender over Patrick’s thoughtfulness. 

He’s treading into dangerous territory he knows, the alarm bells going off in his mind telling him that he needs to be careful.

But David wants this. Just for a moment he wants to pretend that nothing can go wrong and that Patrick wants this too. 

They settle into the movie theater in the basement, David amused at how amazed Patrick looks taking in the opulence of his parent’s home. 

They’re sitting in the plush black seats, the snacks in between them, the movie in full swing before David realizes something.

“You spoke with Stevie?” Patrick has a piece of licorice in his mouth when David asks. 

He looks embarrassed, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I, um, may have given her a visit at the motel.”

“You drove to Schitt’s Creek looking for Stevie?”

Patrick raises his hands up. “In my defense I wouldn’t have had to do all that if I had your number. She was the only person I could think of that would know where you were. Well, other than your sister, but it’s almost _impossible_ to track her down.”

David agrees. Alexis has always been a social butterfly, flying from multiples places constantly. Sometimes _he_ has trouble finding where she is. 

David loves how flustered Patrick looks and wordlessly gestures for Patrick to give him his phone. 

He passes it over to David who swiftly adds his phone number into his contacts.

“Problem solved. Now you don’t have to drive to Schitt’s Creek to know where I am.”

Patrick smiles shaking his head. “Thank you, you’ve saved me a lot of money on gas.”

David preens before shifting his eyes back to the movie, his focus on Patrick. 

* * *

“You told him I was _dying_?” David says into the phone later that night when he calls Stevie.

“It was a test. I wanted to see if he would go and visit you even though he knew you were deathly ill.”

“I wasn’t deathly ill though.”

“He didn’t know that. And he still showed up, _with a romcom_ nonetheless.”

“Don’t remind me,” David mutters, flopping down on his bed. Used tissues that were in a pile fly upwards and land on the floor.

Patrick came to visit him because he was worried. And not only that, he brought David _presents_. 

“An unforgettable first date,” Stevie says from the other end.

David bolts up quickly, his heart beating.

“That wasn’t a date.”

“Um, yes it was.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Yes, it most definitely was.“

“No, it was not.”

“Yes, it was-“

“Okay, I’m not going to do this whole back and forth thing, that’s way too cliche for our friendship,” David breathes out. “It couldn’t have been a date because I’m clearly sick and he clearly came over to check up on me because he’s a good _friend_.”

“I could use a friend like that.”

“You’re not helpful.”

“David, he likes you. A lot. He drove to Schitt’s Creek to find me to ask about _you._ And he found me solely based on your conversations with each other, which, by the way, I demand to know everything you’ve ever said about me to him.”

“I told him you were sarcastic, bitter, and always give me shit about everything.”

“Thank you.” They’re both quiet for a moment before David continues. 

“He also most likely skipped baseball practice to come and see me,” David says biting his lip, hating himself for feeling so satisfied.

“David if you don’t date him, I will.”

“Back off, he’s mine,” David says without thinking and regrets it immediately.

“ _There we go_.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no!”

“Oh, _yes_.”

“Stevie, this can’t be happening!”

“Why not?”

“Because,” David says frustrated. “Because it’ll all end! I’m trying to go to New York! He’ll be here! It won’t work out.” David feels his heart drop into his stomach. “It won’t work out.”

“Not with that attitude.”

David sighs, dragging his hand through his hair. “I don’t want to know what it could be like only to lose it all. He deserves better.”

“Fine. Do it your way. But I think you’re underestimating how much _he_ likes _you_.” Stevie hangs up and it’s just David alone with his thoughts. 

_That wasn’t a date._

* * *

_Was that a date?_

Patrick is pacing back and forth in his room, too much energy buzzing inside him to fall asleep. 

He had been home for at least two hours now, leaving David’s house around ten-thirty. His body was tired, but his mind was working in overtime, dissecting every moment he had with David tonight. 

They finished the movie around six-thirty and Patrick expected David to kick him out. But they stayed in his home theater and spoke for hours, laughing and eating the snacks Patrick brought together. 

Patrick smiles thinking back to David’s impassioned speech about the importance of cuticle care.

_“Patrick, you play sports, you need to take care of your hands!”_ David said as he grabbed Patrick’s hand to inspect them. Patrick laughed at David’s antics, slightly distracted by the spark that shot up his arm as David held it gently in his. He remembers a flush creeping up his face all the way to the tips of his ears. 

When he finally left, albeit begrudgingly, he smiled the entire way home, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel and singing Elvis Presley at the top of his lungs. 

It wasn’t until he settled into bed, ready to sleep when the thought popped into his head.

_Was that a date?_

Now Patrick can’t sleep, overthinking every moment and detail to find some kind of answer.

_I was just being a friend. I was worried about him so I brought him a movie and snacks. No big deal. Anyone would do that for their friend, right?_

With a frustrated groan, Patrick falls onto his bed, staring up at his ceiling. 

_I can’t push this away any longer. I need to make a choice_.

Suddenly the walls feel like they’re closing in, suffocating him. Patrick bolts up from his bed, slips on his sneakers and jacket and walks out of his room quietly, not wanting to wake his parents up. He walks downstairs, through the backdoor in his kitchen, into his backyard. On the far right side is a large oak tree, towering above him with the treehouse he and his father when he was nine made tucked into its branches. Patrick often finds himself climbing up there whenever he needs to think alone. 

On one side of the treehouse, facing away from the house is a large opening, looking towards the fields and trees beyond Patrick's house. There used to be a wooden railing bolted down, until a nasty storm when he was thirteen blew it off. Instead of replacing it however, Patrick somehow convinced his dad to leave it as it was, liking how he could now swing his legs while looking out into the fields. With a solid promise to never do any rough housing up there, he let Patrick keep the opening, becoming Patrick’s favorite place to think.

The world expands outwards, the sky meeting the ground below in the distant horizon. It’s a clear night with the stars shining brilliantly above him. From here Patrick doesn’t feel like he’s trapped. There’s too much of the galaxy above him to feel like he can’t escape. 

He sits down on the opening, swinging his legs outwards, thinking.

Patrick knows he has to tell David the truth. It was the right thing to do, really the only thing to do. It wasn’t fair to play this game with Brock with David as collateral damage. He can’t use him to get back at Brock. He has to tell David everything.

_But what’s stopping you?_

Patrick rubs his forehead, feeling his headache pulsing against his skull. Every time he’s convinced himself to tell David everything, something pulls him back in, an invisible tether refusing to let him go. 

Patrick doesn’t know. There’s something there, but he can’t find it. He closes his eyes lets his mind wander back to tonight to his non-date with David. 

Patrick knew he should have been paying attention to the movie, but he was distracted the entire time. He kept watching David from the corner of his eye, wanting to take in every reaction David had and bottling it up. David is very expressive and Patrick found more amusement watching him than anything that was happening on screen. David was especially emotional at the end of the movie, watching two people build a beautiful future together, his eyes twinkling with hope. He turned to Patrick, the look still on his face and Patrick lost his breath, his eyes raking over David wanting to sear him into his memory.

_But it wasn’t a date._

No, it wasn’t. But as Patrick continues to convince himself that, a weight on his chest starts to form, pushing down at him. The tether he feels becomes tighter pulling him somewhere, his body tense trying to reach for something to hold him steady again. His head begins to pound violently and Patrick has to squeeze his eyes shut hoping to alleviate some of the pressure. And then David’s smiling face flashes in his mind and suddenly everything stops. 

It’s then Patrick realizes that it doesn’t matter whether or not it was a date, because Patrick _wanted_ it to be. 

_I want to date David Rose._

The tether loosens its grip and the pounding in his head stops. His body releases its tension and everything quiets down, just the sound of his breathing and the night wind.

_Is that what you want? David to be your boyfriend?_

He’s never even considered it, the reality he’s imagined in his head only involving girls. Date girls, have sex with girls, marry a girl. He always felt some hesitancy in the dreams he conjured up for himself, anxious about some invisible thing and not knowing why.

Dating David was never an option, but now that it possibly could be, Patrick can’t stop thinking about it.

_What if he’s what’s been missing?_

There’s a fear that courses through Patrick’s body, the idea new and foreign to him. But an excitement is also bubbling in his chest the more and more he thinks about it, feeling his heart constrict and open at the same time. 

_David could be your boyfriend._

He focuses on that thought, pushing away everything else, stopping the anxiety, the doubt and obligation from clouding his judgement. He just thinks about David, his crooked grin, and the twinkle of hope in his eyes and happiness blooms in Patrick’s chest violently, knocking the wind out of him.

_I like David Rose._

Patrick blinks, feeling his heart beat before his face lights up with a smile. _I like David Rose,_ he thinks again to himself, his body relaxing, the revelation settling into his body. 

He likes spending time with him. He likes teasing him and watching him get riled up. He likes watching David paint, his right hand adorned with four silver rings stroking the brush expertly on canvas, creating a beautiful and haunting world with colors and shapes. He likes how David can doodle on just about anything. He saw into David’s trigonometry notebook once, his notes for the class written in neatly on the lines, but small drawings filling in the spaces up until the edges. He likes making David smile and laugh, the sound ringing through Patrick’s bones. 

He knows David is hesitant to let people into his life, and he let Patrick in. It’s a precious gift to get to know David and have him show himself so openly. The thought of losing that makes Patrick ache.

_He doesn’t have to know_.

If the bet is kept as a secret, locked away from David, the possibility of him leaving is gone. All Patrick has to do is continue on as if everything were normal. Only now he has to figure out a way to get David to like him back.

_Will you stay? If I asked?_

Patrick leans his body against the wooden wall of the treehouse, his body sagging in relaxation. He looks outwards towards the sky, into infinity thinking about dark eyebrows, a crooked grin, and four silver rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr! https://maybewecandreamalittle.tumblr.com/


	4. Chapter 4

“Favorite food?” Patrick asks David the next day. David’s answer is quick.

“Pizza,” David says and Patrick laughs. They’ve been at this since the moment class started, falling into the rhythm of asking each other questions. It’s a game now with just two rules: you can only ask a question when it's your turn and you have to answer truthfully.

David is still feeling congested, coughing every now and then, but he couldn’t bare to miss another day of class, another day of Patrick. So he toughed it out and convinced his mother to let him go as she watched him from beyond the room, behind the door with a silk handkerchief over her mouth. 

He definitely felt anxious walking into the art room, his previous obsessive thoughts about whether or not last night was a date still lingering in his head. 

But Patrick plops down next to him with a smirk and David forgets all his worries. 

“Okay my turn, if you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you want to be?” David asks as he brushes over his canvas with long strokes.

Patrick is quiet beside him so David shifts his gaze to him in curiosity. He has a gentle smile on his face, a smile David now recognizes is just for him to see. 

“I’m pretty happy where I am if I’m honest,” Patrick mutters. David heart swells, his own smile forming on his face.

“Me too,” he answers quietly. Patrick’s grin widens. 

“Well other than being at a Leafs game of course,” Patrick says teasingly.

“Mm, yes, I love, um, leaves,” David jabs back and Patrick laughs, the sound tickling David’s bones. 

_I like you._

* * *

_I like him,_ Patrick thinks as he jogs around the track for his eighth lap. Sam put him to work immediately, warning him with a stern voice, _“I can’t have you skipping out on practice to do God knows what Brewer. I’ll let it slide this time, but you’re running 8 laps.”_

Patrick nods at Sam in shame, but he can’t bring himself to regret what he did. If he had to, he would do it again. If it meant making David feel better, Patrick thinks he might do just about anything.

_How do I ask David out? Should it be a grand gesture? Should I be casual about it?_

Patrick has been racking his brain with different ways to ask David out on a date and what that date should be. David is used to being wooed by hot shot celebrities and the extravagantly wealthy. How can Patrick compete with that?

But Patrick also knows David well enough to see that the luxury isn’t the only thing he cares about. In the short time they’ve had together, Patrick knows that David is fiercely loyal to those he cares about. He’s also a hopeless romantic despite being very protective about his emotions in real life. Patrick also knows David appreciates small gestures if it means someone was listening to him carefully. 

And Patrick has been listening to everything David Rose has ever said since they first started speaking. 

Patrick slows down at the end of his eighth lap, breathing raggedly, resting his hands on his knees, willing his heart to slow down. 

Patrick has always been a take-charge sort of guy, never letting anything stop him from getting what he wants.

But David is different. David has walls that are made of concrete. Patrick knows he has to ease his way in, prove to David that this can work.

He walks over to where the rest of the team is, sweat dripping down his face. 

_Go slow_ , Patrick thinks to himself. _Go slow, prove it can be good._

* * *

David is taking books out of his locker when he feels someone tap on his shoulder. 

“Alexis, for the last time I am not giving you a ride to Elmdale for your date-” David says as he turns around but stops short when he sees Patrick grinning at him. 

David snaps his mouth shut and blinks rapidly at Patrick who has his  hands shoved into his pockets looking at David shyly, his head slightly tucked down.

“Hey,” Patrick says sheepishly. 

“Hi,” David breathes out feeling the butterflies low in his belly.

“I saw you from down the hall and I, um, thought we could walk to class together?”

David smiles with his lips pressed together and nods. “I’d like that,” he says closing his locker. 

They fall into step together, weaving their bodies through the crowd, keeping close together. Patrick’s hands are still shoved in his pockets and David’s hands are clasped together, fiddling with the silver rings on his right hand, but every now and then their shoulders brush against each other, making the butterflies in David’s belly expand. 

They’re both quiet until Patrick breaks the silence, asking a question.

“Favorite thing to do on a bad day?”

“I like to write,” David says. “Well, not like _stories_. Just random thoughts. Kind of like journaling? It helps me organize all the crazy in my head. I used to carry around a small notebook, but I lost it during our last trip to the Netherlands. Alexis was trapped in a haunted antique store in Amsterdam and I accidentally left it behind in the taxi when I went to go get her.”

Patrick nods and continues to listen to another one of Alexis’ crazy adventures, completely attentive to David with a small grin on his face. 

To David this feels intimate, a cliche he’s seen in movies dozens of times, boy walking someone he likes to class. He wants to read in between the lines, to see if there is something more in Patrick’s decision to walk with him to class, but David knows better than to hope for that. Patrick saw him from across the hallway and decided to walk with him. Nothing more.

* * *

Patrick’s heart was beating out of his chest when he ran out of his history class to get to David’s locker. He knew David liked to stop by there before heading to the art room to pack up his books for the day because he liked to go home right after his free period. But Patrick’s history class was located at the other end of the school, farthest away from David, so he knew he had to run in order to catch him. He wanted to walk with David to class today, hoping to work up the courage to ask him out.

He ran through the stampede of students, almost crashing into people, but Patrick was determined. He turned the last corner, hoping David was still at his locker and he feels his body relax when he spots him. Patrick slows down, walking at a steady pace instead to catch his breath and calm his nerves. 

* * *

“Did you get your tickets to prom?” Patrick asks from behind his easel. 

David scrunches his face in distaste. “Absolutely not.”

Patrick whips his head towards David in shock. “You’re not going to prom?”

“Of course not,” David responds horrified. “That sounds torturous.”

Patrick stifles a laugh. “It’s a dance, David. I’m sure it won’t be that bad. Besides, based on your extensive knowledge of 80s and 90s romcoms, I thought you might be excited for it. Live out a fantasy.”

“If there’s anything I’ve learned in the short time I’ve been alive, it’s that you can’t expect your life to play out like a romcom. _Especially_ in high school,” David replies. “Everyone hopes to be like Julia Stiles in _10 Things I hate about you_ , when you’re really just the awkward extra hovering by the refreshments table. Besides, I don’t have anyone to go with,” he says unbothered. 

David says that so matter-of-factly that it hurts something inside of Patrick. He knows now how David has chosen to keep himself in isolation, choosing to keep people from coming inside because of old scars. 

“You could come with me,” Patrick says casually, hoping it masks his thumping heart. 

David stops and for a moment Patrick sees interest flickering in his eyes. But it’s gone quickly. 

David shakes his head with a small smile. “It’s not for me,” David murmurs quietly. “People like me don’t go to things like that.”

Patrick feels disappointment wash over him. He had a vision in his head of him and David dancing together entwined in each other’s arms. It was a stretch he knew, but something he still let himself imagine. 

“Besides,” David says. “I would be so distracted by the plethora of incorrect fashion choices made that night that I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

Patrick laughs, feeling lighter. 

* * *

David still feels gooey inside later that night. 

_I can’t believe he asked me to go to prom,_ he thinks to himself. _Well, not exactly like that. Not like a date. Probably more like you can come with me and my friends. Yeah, probably that._

But David doesn’t stop himself from smiling, allowing the small nugget inside of him out to dream tonight. 

_Just this once. Just for tonight._

* * *

It’s been a week since Patrick began running out of class to walk with David from his locker. 

He knows he’s being ridiculous about it, but he also can’t imagine not doing it anymore. It’s become routine, a daily ritual. 

It’s also because he can’t get enough of the look on David’s face whenever he appears next to him. As if he’s saying, _“I can’t believe you came back.”_

Patrick decides on a Wednesday that he’s finally going to ask David out. He gave himself a pep talk the night before, pumping himself up and getting excited at the idea of finally asking David out to a date. 

He’s buzzing with energy as he walks next to David, replaying his plan and what he’s going to say over and over in his head.

_I’m going to ask him out._

* * *

He doesn’t ask him out.

Patrick is seated next to David, his mind spinning, berating himself for being so nervous.

_What happened to I’m a take-charge kind of guy? Ask him now!_

Patrick sets his jaw and turns to David to ask him, but he feels his body tense up again and turns back towards his easel.

_Coward._

Patrick internally groans to himself, frustrated by his hesitance. He turns back to David once more, but David now has his phone out and is focused intensely on something on the screen.

“David, are you okay?” Patrick asks. David turns to him with a terrified look and Patrick rears back in shock.

“What’s wrong?” he asks concerned. David shakes his head and bites his lip.

“I got an email from the School of Visual Arts,” David breathes out. Patrick’s eyes widen.

“What does it say?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t opened it yet,” David says his voice shaking. Without another word, Patrick stands up and grabs David’s wrist pulling him up with him. He drags them out of the room into the hallway. He walks them around the corner to a small alcove, his hands still around David’s wrist. 

He turns around until he’s face to face with David. David’s eyes are wide and terrified, but Patrick puts his hands on David’s shoulders, rubbing his thumbs in soothing circles.

“Open it,” Patrick says softly. David nods, his hands shaking slightly as he opens the email on his phone. Patrick watches David’s eyes scan the email rapidly, his breathing ragged. After what feels like an eternity, David finally says, “I got in.”

Patrick is pulling David in for a fierce hug before he even realizes. He’s about to pull away, embarrassed by his actions, when he feels David’s arms wrapping around him, pulling him in just as tightly. David drops his head into Patrick’s shoulder and nuzzles into it and Patrick loses his breath. He closes his eyes, and breathes in David’s scent, spicy and warm with a hint of citrus, never wanting to let go or forget this moment. 

They stand there, wrapped in each other for another minute before David reluctantly pulls away, Patrick immediately feeling the loss and wanting to pull David back in.

But David is looking at him, his eyes shining with tears and a smile that tugs at Patrick’s soul.

_I like you_.

“I’m so happy,” he says quietly, his voice breaking a little. Patrick reaches his hand out and takes David’s, squeezing it firmly.

“Congratulations David,” he says softly. Patrick feels David squeeze his hand back. 

* * *

They’re seated back in the art room after collecting themselves outside. David’s eyes are still slightly red from his tears, but shining brightly with happiness.

"I can’t believe I got in,” he says shaking his head in disbelief. 

Patrick grins back. “I told you they would be crazy not to let you in. Now you’ll be able to use that scrapbook thing you made last week,” Patrick said teasingly.

“It’s called a look-book and yes this entire situation will be very good for my overall aesthetic”

Patrick laughs with David, shaking his head in amusement. 

The thought about asking David out leaves Patrick immediately, taken over by the happiness he feels for David in this moment. 

_This is David’s moment. Let him have it. He deserves it._

But beneath that happiness, Patrick feels something tugging at his gut, a sorrow buried deep within there.

_New York City is a long way from here. Stay,_ Patrick thinks pathetically. 

* * *

David is still buzzing from excitement later that night. He’s never wanted anything more than to move to New York City and pursue art, away from this small town and all its problem. 

He would miss his family he knew, or the closest thing to missing them, and his heart squeezed at the idea of being alone without Stevie. But he was determined to move there and start a new life just for himself. Nothing has ever made him want to stay. 

Until Patrick. 

A sadness seeps into David as he stops fluttering around. He sits heavily on his bed, his excitement dwindling.

David knew he had an expiration date for his time with Patrick. It would come to end either by Patrick’s inevitable disinterest or David’s eventual departure. He knew that going into this. But David was finding it more and more difficult to pretend that Patrick hasn’t become a very important person in his life.

_You should have stayed away._

But how could he when Patrick has been so kind? The only other person besides Stevie to actually listen to what David has to say and care about it. 

His dreams of New York now laid heavily on his mind, excitement mixing in with dread.

_If he asked me, would I stay?_

David doesn’t sleep well that night, too busy chasing away the nugget to stop himself from dreaming. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys ready for some tender fluff?

_I just need an in._

It’s a Friday and they’re both sitting in their usual spots, brushes in hand, their easels in front of them. David is clearly very focused on his work while Patrick holds the brush limply in his, completely distracted.

_I just need an in, anything for me to get an excuse to hang out with him alone outside of school._

Patrick thought about not asking David out last night in bed. Now that it’s confirmed that David would eventually leave, Patrick wondered if it was even worth it to try, to put his heart at risk like that. 

But any time he had was worth spending it with David Rose. 

_We don’t have much time, I want every second with you._

He’s thinking of how to ease his way into asking David when he hears his voice say something.

“What’s one of your favorite memories?”

Patrick is jolted out of his thoughts. David doesn’t notice, still working on his painting, so Patrick ponders for a moment before answering. “Picnics with my parents at Valley Hill Park I think. We used to go every weekend when I was little. My mom would pack peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and my dad and I would play catch. We haven’t done it in a while though.”

David has a small smile on his face as he digests Patrick’s answer. “I’ve never been on a picnic before,” he says offhandedly. 

“What? That can’t be right,” Patrick asks teasingly, dipping his brush into the red paint, coating it generously.

David shrugs his shoulders, “No one has ever taken me.”

Patrick stops and takes that in. 

_This is your in_.

“We should have a picnic,” Patrick says quickly not wanting to lose his nerve. David swings his head at him in surprise. “A celebratory picnic. For getting into school.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he mutters.

“No, I’d like to,” Patrick says, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He looks into David’s eyes earnestly, begging him to say yes. 

“Sure,” he says and Patrick feels his heart soar. 

“How’s two o’clock?” Patrick asks, his hands clammy and shaking.

“Okay,” David says with a shy smile. 

“Great,” Patrick mutters back with his own grin. He feels happiness bursting in his chest, excitement for tomorrow bubbling deep inside. He turns back to his canvas and realizes that while he was asking David out, his hand had nervously caked on globs of paint onto his canvas. He and David look at it in confusion.

“That’s wet now,” Patrick says lamely.

“Yeah that’s a lot of paint.”

“I’m gonna go dry it off,” he says standing up to get paper towels by the sink. 

* * *

David is tugging on a sweater when Stevie storms into his room the next day.

“Okay, what is it that we’re doing today-oh my God,” she says taking in the mess of David’s room. His usually immaculate room is covered with his clothes strewn everywhere.

“Okay, what s going on?” Stevie asks, stepping carefully over his clothes.

“What?” David asks, still focused on his reflection in the mirror. 

“Why does your room look like a war-zone? What are we even doing today?”

“We’re going to the park,” David says, satisfied by his outfit and walking to his bathroom to fix his hair.

“The park?” Stevie asks following him in. "Why are we going to the park?”

“We’re going to connect with nature Stevie,” David replies, combing his hair with his fingers, styling it expertly.

“David you hate connecting with anything, especially nature. What’s going on?” Stevie asks again, meeting his eyes through the mirror.

David presses his lips together tightly, trying to suppress his grin. 

“We’re meeting Patrick,” David finally says. Stevie stares at him blankly for a minute before a shit-eating grin appears on her face.

“Are we?”

“Okay, before you go there, we are meeting as _friends,_ ” David says firmly.

“Oh, _come on_ ,” Stevie groans rolling her eyes.

“No, none of _that_. Listen,” David says turning to Stevie. “He’s being _nice_ which is something that is _very_ foreign to me.”

“I’m nice.”

“You’re as nice as a prison guard.”

“They can be nice.”

“Okay, point is, we are going to the park to hang out with Patrick as _friends_.”

“I don’t want to be the third wheel, David.”

“You won’t be third-wheeling anyone. Patrick is being nice and we are also going to be nice. Or, as nice as we can be.”

Stevie exits his bathroom rolling her eyes. “You’re in denial.”

“No, I’m being rational,” David responds, continuing to style his hair. 

_This is not a date._

* * *

Patrick is late for his date. Practice ran thirty minutes longer than it was supposed to which meant he had to rush to gather all the supplies for his picnic with David. He picked up a large pie of pizza, bottles of lemonade, and the gift he ordered for David yesterday. 

He drove straight to Elmdale after practice the day before when the idea suddenly came to him when they were doing their warm-ups. He practically begged the owner of the shop to get him to do a rush order, lying about the gift being a favor from his mother and that she would kill him if he didn’t get it done.

The gift was in a light blue gift bag, tucked safely in his passenger seat. He only hopes David likes it. 

He parks in Valley Hill Park about ten minutes before two, carrying everything to a secluded picnic table on the far side of the lawn. It’s a beautiful day, the sun peaking through the clouds. There’s still a slight chill in the air, the weather not quite warm enough for just a t-shirt, so Patrick threw on his favorite blue sweater for an extra bit of luck. 

He’s sitting on top of the picnic table, his feet resting on the seat below and waits for David. He thought about bringing a blanket like his parents did when he was a kid, but he knew he would be pushing it asking David to sit on the cold ground with him. Down the road when the weather was warmer and David was more comfortable being with him, maybe Patrick could toe the line a little and convince David to do that. 

Patrick smiles at the thought of the two of them doing this again. The idea of spending more and more time with David outside of the classroom, just the two of them. This was all still very new for Patrick, the fear still there. But it was underneath a layer of excitement and anticipation. He wants to see where this will go. 

He can see families lounging in the grass, kids running around laughing. His heart is beating fast, his hands clammy. It was five minutes after two when Patrick finally sees David, making his way across the field. He sticks out against the green backdrop, wearing his signature black, his hair styled immaculately. Patrick raises his hand to wave at him when he notices someone walking next to him. 

Patrick’s stomach drops when he realizes that Stevie is walking next to David, a scowl on her face.

_Shit_.

* * *

David’s stomach was in knots sitting in Stevie’s passenger seat. She insisted on driving there, saying she needed a means of escape when it became too unbearable to watch them be gross.

_But this isn’t a date._

David thinks back to the day before when Patrick pulled him in to a hug. He felt surprised before melting into it, wrapping his arms around him tightly, not wanting to let go. 

No one has ever been so happy for David before. He knew his family would be pleased, but to have someone so enthusiastic for David’s success was new. 

David played with the sleeves of his sweater, needing to fumble around with something to distract him from his nerves. 

“I can’t believe I let you drag me into this,” Stevie mumbled from her seat. 

“I thought you said you liked Patrick.”

“Oh I do, which is why I don’t want to crash your date out of respect for him.”

“It’s not a-“

“David, you’ve said that at least ten times today. Are you _sure_ you’re not just saying that so you can convince yourself it’s not so that you don’t get hurt?” 

David shuts his mouth immediately, sinking into the passenger seat. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t need to convince myself of anything,” David mumbles. “Besides, what’s wrong about taking extra precautions?”

Stevie sighs from the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel a little more tightly.

“I know you’re scared,” she murmurs to him. “But from what I’ve seen so far, I think you need to give yourself a chance to see where this can go.”

David sets his mouth into a hard line and closes his eyes. 

_Maybe this one time it’ll be different._

“Fine,” David says finally. “But until it’s completely obvious that this is a date, you’re staying with me.”

Stevie groans behind the wheel.

* * *

_I should have been clearer_ , Patrick thinks to himself lamely as he eats his pizza. The three of them are seated at the picnic table, chewing on the pizza Patrick brought. 

Patrick thinks he did an okay job of concealing his disappointment in seeing Stevie. Not that he wasn’t happy to see her. He genuinely was given how much she helped him when he went looking for David. If anything he’s just incredibly frustrated in himself for messing up. 

But at least David is here with him. He’ll take what he can get. 

“So, Patrick,” Stevie saids with a mouthful of pizza. “David told me this picnic was your idea?”

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly. “I thought it would be nice to celebrate David getting into art school.”

“Hm, yes, I think it was _very_ nice,” she says with a smirk. David elbows her side and while eating his slice. 

Patrick looks at them in confusion before putting his plate down and standing up. 

“I forgot the napkins in my car, I’m just gonna go grab them real quick,” Patrick says swinging his leg out of the bench and walking quickly to his car. 

He opens the drivers side and sits there for a moment, resting his head against the steering wheel.

_Why is this so hard?_

Patrick sighs to himself, trying to wrack his brain about what to do. 

_Get it together, Brewer._

Patrick shakes his head and reaches into the center console for the napkins. 

He walks back to the table, determined to make the best out of the day.

_Be his friend._

* * *

David watches as Patrick quickly walks to his car, completely ignoring Stevie. 

“So, are you ready to admit that this is a date?”

David scowls, still watching Patrick walk away.

She raises her hands up in defense. “I’m just _saying_ , he brought you pizza and he didn’t look too thrilled to see me with you. I think it’s pretty obvious he was hoping to spend some time with you, one on one.”

David continues to ignore Stevie. 

“He also brought you a present.”

David swings his head towards Stevie surprised. “What?”

Stevie doesn’t say anything and simply points towards a blue gift bag with tissue paper spilling over the top placed in the spot next to where Patrick was sitting. David blinks at it stupidly.

Stevie picks it up and place it directly in front of him. “Do you want me to open it?”

“No,” David hisses out, his eyes darting behind him to see if Patrick was walking back.

“Fine, but I will say this. If there is anything remotely sentimental in here, he is on a date with you.” 

David stares down at the present, his mind racing. 

_It’s not for me. It’s for his dad. Or his mom. Or one of his thousands of cousins._

Then tiny nugget inside of David speaks.

_Or maybe it’s for you._

David closes his eyes, wanting to keep being stubborn, to keep his walls up. But he feels them crack inside him, his resolve weakening as he imagines Patrick’s face. 

_I like him. He might like me._

David lets out a harsh breath, his mind set.

“Stevie?”

“Hm?”

“Leave.”

Stevie immediately stands up and swings her legs out of the picnic table, but not before grabbing two more slices of pizza and swiftly walking away.

Patrick is walking back when he catches her.

“Hey, where are-“

“I’m leaving, family emergency. Thanks for the pizza, David needs a ride home. Bye!” She doesn’t give Patrick the chance to respond, her legs carrying her quickly across the grass. 

Patrick stares at her dumbly, napkins clutched in his hands. David stifles a smile, knowing he needs to do something to make it up to Stevie.

“Is she okay?” Patrick as he approaches the table. 

“Yup,” David says brightly. “She just has something she needs to take care of.” David closes the pizza box and clears the table before plopping down on top of it, his feet resting on the bench below him. 

Patrick puts the napkins down on the table and notices the blue gift bag sitting right in the center. 

“I see you’ve found my present,” Patrick says cooly, sitting down next to David, the gift bag in between them.

“Mm, it appears I have,” David replies, biting his lip with anticipation. “You didn’t have to. Planning this picnic was more than enough.”

Patrick rubs the back of his neck. “I wanted to. But I have to warn you, it’s really nothing.”

“The gesture is still very much appreciated,” David says. Patrick grins at him meekly and pushes the bag closer to David. He takes it, reaching in and pulling out his gift.

It’s a small black leather notebook with his name embossed on the lower left hand corner with silver lettering.

“To replace the one you lost,” Patrick says. “I figured you might need it when you’re in New York, help with your anxiety.”

David feels a lump form in his throat, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gift. 

“This is not nothing,” he finally chokes out. “So, thank you.”

Patrick smiles back at him, small and scared, and David feels the same way. 

The wind picks up around them, the trees around them swaying and rustling. David’s mind is racing, his body flushed. He feels several emotions racing through his body: happiness, longing, excitement. But underneath all of that is fear, pulsing through his veins, reeling him back in. There is always fear in the back of David’s mind, keeping him on alert, on his toes in case he needs to escape. David feels the urge to run, as he always does when he feels exposed and vulnerable.

_Don’t you want to know what it could be like?_

He does, desperately so. But he’s so, so scared. 

But Patrick looks at him with a soft smile on his face, his eyes showing David his soul. 

And David feels he should show some of his too. 

So David reaches over and wraps his right hand around Patrick’s neck before he can stop himself and pulls him in, letting the wall down to bare his soul just a little. 

* * *

Patrick’s mind goes blank when his lips meet David’s before his heart explodes into a symphony. His body begins to tingle, growing warmer with every second that passes. The world spins around him, before settling onto David, just David. Happiness spreads throughout every inch of his body and Patrick wants to sob in relief, finally feeling for the first time he’s doing something _right_. 

There was always a fear inside of Patrick, a little voice in his head that would try to convince him that he was broken, defected because he wasn’t able to feel things. No butterflies in his stomach, no fireworks behind his eyes. Just an unspoken obligation that was pushed on him without a second thought. 

But here’s David who makes Patrick forget all of that. David who makes Patrick feel tornadoes instead of butterflies and lightning instead of fireworks. David who makes Patrick feel right. 

_I’m kissing David._

His hand reaches up to cradle David’s face wanting to keep him there forever, his thumb stroking his jaw and feeling his body shiver. He forgets about everything else, nothing as important than this moment, sitting on a picnic table with David Rose and kissing him. 

_Finally._

David reluctantly pulls away, his crooked grin on his face. 

Patrick stares at him, dazed, his mind racing and his heart wanting to pound out of his chest. He needs to put into words what he’s feeling, but the words are stuck in his throat. 

_Say something._

“I think I’m gay,” Patrick blurts out. David rears back in shock, blinking rapidly at Patrick.

“Um, okay…and, uh, how-how do you feel about that?” He asks nervously.

Patrick looks into David’s eyes before dropping back down to his lips.

“I-I don’t know,” he says. David bites his lip and looks away.

“Okay, okay yeah, um that’s okay, it’s a lot-“

“I think I need another kiss to be sure,” Patrick says cutting him off, feeling breathless and eager.

David’s eyes snap back to his and a grin blooms on his face.

_God, you’re pretty._

“Well, I think I can help with that.” David curls a hand around Patrick’s neck again and pulls him in, crashing their lips together. Patrick brings his hand back up to cup David’s cheek again, falling into him further and further. 

Patrick can’t imagine not kissing David. He can’t even remember the dozens of kisses he’s had in the past, all of them disappearing except for this moment with David. He feels his body feel right for the first time ever, wondering how he’s come so far without this feeling.

David pulls back, but Patrick leans forward chasing his lips. David laughs, the sound warming Patrick’s belly. He likes making David laugh. He grins back at him and leans their foreheads together. 

_Stay._

Patrick’s hands are gripping David’s biceps, needing to steady himself.

_Stay with me._

Patrick thinks he can stay here forever with David. 

“Still gay?” David asks teasingly. 

Patrick nods his head fiercely. “Oh absolutely,” he responds, kissing David again just because he can. 

David smiles into the kiss and Patrick laughs. “I was afraid you were going to leave without us having done that,” Patrick breathes out. “So thank you, for making that happen for us.”

David’s hand finds his, lacing their fingers together. “I’ve been known to be a very generous person,” David murmurs back before falling back into Patrick.

* * *

They stay at the park until the sun is about to set, kissing and talking, holding hands the entire time. 

Whenever someone gets too close or they hear voices, they quickly let go of each other, wanting to be cautious. But it isn’t long before their hands find each other again. 

And although Patrick’s hand feels clammy in David’s, David refuses to let go, wanting to keep him there for as long as he can. 

They hold hands even as Patrick drives David home, Patrick singing along softly to Elvis Presley. He walks David to his front door, corny and cliche, David smiling as Patrick kisses him goodnight. 

They both lay in their beds at night, replaying the day in their minds over and over again. David falls asleep easy, his mind clear and his heart full. 

Patrick stays up a little longer, feeling happiness bubbling in his chest. But a shadow looms in the dark recesses of his mind, taunting him. 

_I’ll be watching you, Brewer._


	6. Chapter 6

David wakes up around eleven the next day. It’s Sunday and David has nothing to do except wait for Patrick to get out of practice at five. His eyes squint against the sunlight and his muscles constrict until David has to stretch his body outward, loosening them. Suddenly, memories from the day before come flooding back and elation blooms in his chest.

_Patrick_.

David smiles to himself, snuggling back down into his bed as his mind roams. Yesterday was better than David could have ever hoped for. And to think he almost messed things up by bringing Stevie.

David is brought back to reality at the thought of Stevie and groans to himself. He has to tell Stevie what happened and he can already imagine the gloating. As if she heard him say her name in the universe, David’s phone begins to ring. He knows it’s Stevie without looking at the screen and reluctantly picks it up.

“Hello?” he answers with fake cheer.

“Good morning. Just wanted to check in and make sure you got home okay,” she asks equally as cool.

“Yes, I did, thank you so much.”

“Glad to hear that. So, how was your date?”

David is about to say it wasn’t a date, but stops himself. Because yesterday was absolutely a date. Instead he clears him throat. “It was fine,” he says primly. 

“Really? Just fine?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing happened?”

“Nope.”

“Nothing at all?”

David bites his lip knowing Stevie will find out sooner or later. It was best to do it now.

“Well, there was one thing.”

“Oh, please tell me, I’m bursting with anticipation,” Stevie says monotonously. 

David hesitates before saying, “We might have, kissed.”

Stevie is silent on the other end.

“We might have kissed _a lot_ actually. Like, _a lot_.”

Another beat passes before she says, “I _fucking_ knew it.”

“Okay, are we done here?”

“I _knew_ he had the hots for you! Only a dumbass wouldn't be able to see it!”

“Okay, I was just trying to be rational and _make sure_ before I made a fool out of myself.”

“Well you did drag me with you to your _date_ so I think it’s safe to say you already did that.”

“Thank you so much for your support.”

“So, what are you and your _boyfriend_ doing today?”

“Okay, woah, woah woah,” David says popping up from his bed, gesturing wildly with his hands. “He is _not_ my boyfriend.”

Stevie groans on the other side of the line. “ _David, come on!_ ”

“He hasn’t asked me and I haven’t asked him,” David says defensively. “He literally just came out of the closet! I doubt he wants to jump on that right away.” 

“He set up a picnic with pizza and bought you a present. He’s already in David.”

“I just think I have to take things slow with him,” David says. “I don’t want to overwhelm him. It’s a lot to take in. I’m pretty sure no one else knows except for us. I’m not even sure if _you’re_ supposed to know.” 

“Seeing as though I have been a direct participant in all of this, it would be impossible for me not to know.”

David sighs and falls back into his pillows. “I just want him to be comfortable. This is a big thing and I don’t know how he wants to go about this.”

“He made out with you in the park yesterday. I think he might be okay with taking things to the next step.”

“I won’t know until we talk about it. He’s coming over later tonight to watch a movie.”

“Oh, what kind of movie? A _sexy_ one?”

David grimaces, slightly amused by Stevie’s antics. “I doubt it. It’s his turn to pick so I’m pretty sure it’s going to be related to sports.”

“Now that’s sexy.”

“You’re a terrible person.”

* * *

Patrick is changing out of his uniform when Brock leans up against the locker next to him.

“Brewer,” he says with his annoying smirk. “How’s our little _project_ going.”

Patrick keeps him face calm. “None of your fucking business, Brock,” he replies in a steely voice. 

Brock whistles lowly. “Not going too great, huh? You know, you can just forfeit if it’s too much for you.”

Patrick wants nothing more than to punch Brock clean in the face, but knows he has to keep himself calm and collected. It wouldn’t be good for him to punch his teammate in a locker room full of witnesses. 

“It’s not too late to walk away, Brewer,” Brock says quietly. “No shame in being a coward.”

Patrick squeezes his eyes shut as his hands clench into fists. 

“Not a chance,” Patrick says, slamming his locker door shut and storming away. 

The nagging feeling in his chest that was there since last night expands a little, the sad reminder still lingering.

_Don’t forget about the bet._

The guilt begins to boil over as he thinks about David and what this bet would do to him if he ever found out. 

He wouldn’t be able to trust Patrick ever again. 

Patrick makes it to his car and sits in the drivers seat with his eyes screwed shut and his hands squeezing the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white.

This was a mistake. This was all a terrible mistake. But Patrick can’t deny the part of him that wants to beat Brock, wanting the satisfaction of Brock losing. 

_You just need to make it to the Spring Festival with David and then after that you’re free to be with him with nothing tying you down. No bet, no Brock. Just David._

He takes one more deep breath before starting the car. He still needs to pick up the movie for him and David as well as the snacks David has specially requested. 

As his mind begins to fill with David, he feels his heart begin to beat steadily again. 

* * *

David is desperately trying to focus on the movie on the screen, but is failing because there is an incredibly attractive boy sitting next to him. Patrick is dressed in a t-shirt, having taken off his jacket when he settled into the plush black seats in David’s movie theater. His chest is broad, stretching the material, his arms are crossed, the muscles of his biceps straining. 

They were sitting close together, David’s arm pressed up against Patrick’s. But Patrick hasn’t made a single move yet, keeping his eyes on the movie. David is biting his lips and keeping his hands clasped in his lap to prevent himself from grabbing Patrick and doing wicked things to him with his mouth. 

_You have to go slow._

This is all too new for Patrick, David knows. He wants Patrick to be comfortable with his newfound sexuality and the best way to go about it was slowly and carefully. David knows first hand how overwhelming diving head first into uncharted waters can be, his own journey into discovering his sexuality having been rocky.

So David is going to be patient and attentive, letting Patrick take the lead, even if it kills him. And it just might given how good Patrick looks right now. 

“Why did you pick this movie again?” David asks, reaching for the popcorn in Patrick’s lap looking for a distraction.

“Cinderella Man is about perseverance, humility and unconditional love, David.”

“All I’ve seen so far is a lot of muted neutrals and bloody noses.”

“It’s also about boxing during the Great Depression.”

“Mm, enchanting.” 

“Okay then,” Patrick says moving the bowl of popcorn from his lap, picking up the remote and pausing the movie. “What do you want to do, David?” He quirks his eyebrow, a glint in his eye challenging David to do something. 

David bites his lip again, his body restraining from wanting to jump Patrick’s bones.

_Oh fuck it_.

David grabs onto Patrick’s shirt and pulls him in, crashing their lips together. David can feel Patrick’s smile, which quickly disappears as he begins to kiss David back, his handswrapping around his back pulling him in closer. 

_We’ll take it slow later_.

* * *

Patrick’s lips part as he lets out a soft sigh and David surges forward, deepening the kiss. His hand cradles the back of Patrick’s neck, rubbing his thumb back and forth. 

Patrick told himself that he has going to take things slow with David. He wanted to make sure David was comfortable with moving thing forward in their relationship. He also had his own insecurities to work through, all of this being very new territory for him.

He never had an issue asking girls out. But Patrick has realized he was able to do everything with ease because nothing was ever really at stake. He never felt the weight of rejection, never felt the anxiety of really liking someone and being afraid they didn’t feel the same way. With David and his walls, Patrick knows he has to be careful not to scare him away. If that means being patient and waiting for David, so be it.

But what was Patrick supposed to do with David Rose sitting next to him, biting his lip, looking so beautiful? 

Ever since their first kiss, Patrick wanted more, feeling like he could never get enough. As if he finally was able to quench this never-ending thirst for something. That something Patrick realizes, is David. 

Patrick feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up, the heat rushing through his body. He pushes into him, needing to mold his body into David’s. Before he knows it, David is falling backwards, Patrick chasing him and pressing his body down into him. He feels David’s hands skimming the edge of his t-shirt before pushing it up to run his hands up Patrick’s naked back. 

Patrick groans into David’s mouth and presses himself closer, a shiver running down his body. 

Patrick moves his hands hesitantly, also wanting to seek out skin, when the door of the theater swings open and Alexis strolls in.

“David, have you seen the Japanese silk scarf I got in Milan-oh,” Alexis stops short as David and Patrick whip their heads towards her before scrambling off of each other. 

“Alexis, did no one teach you to knock or were you raised by _barbaric wolves_?!” 

Alexis scoffs and flicks her hair. “Okay, first of all, this is a _communal_ space. How was I supposed to know you would be making out in here with a boy?”

David makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, murder in his eyes. Patrick suppresses a grin as he offers his hand to Alexis. “Hi, I’m Patrick.”

Alexis coos at him, taking his hand daintily. “ _Hello Patrick._ Aren’t you on the baseball team?”

Patrick nods sheepishly. “Yeah, I play shortstop.”

“Hm, I don’t know what that means, but it sounds very _sporty_. Anyways, David I need my scarf. I know you borrowed it.”

“Alexis I didn’t take your fucking scarf. You probably lost it in the backseat of your last date when the police stopped you for being in a stolen car,” David says venomously.

Alexis stomps her foot in frustration. “Ew David! I told you Raoul didn’t know he took someone else car! It was all a simple misunderstanding, the police already let him go.”

“Well, either way I don’t know where your scarf is. Now, shoo, we’re busy.”

“Hm, yes I can see that,” Alexis says with a wink, or something like a wink. “I’ll leave you two to _canoodle._ Bye Patrick,” she says, booping his gently on the nose. “It was very nice meeting you.” 

Patrick grins widely. “It was nice to meet you too Alexis,” he says warmly. Alexis lets out a satisfied humph at David before turning on her heel and flouncing away. David glares at her back as she walks out and Patrick laughs at him, thoroughly amused by the Rose siblings. 

“She’s nice,” Patrick says with a smirk. 

“No she’s not,” David replies, still glaring at the door. Patrick wraps a hand around David’s wrist and pulls him back down onto the seat, wrapping his arm around his shoulder.

“Actually I’m glad she interrupted us,” Patrick says stroking his hand up David’s arm. “We might have been going a little too fast just now.”

David snuggles into his chest and Patrick feels him nod against him. “Yeah, we should talk about that,” he mutters hesitantly. 

They’re both quiet for a moment, trying to gather their thoughts. “I like you a lot, David,” Patrick says softly. “I like spending time with you.”

“Me too,” he replies gently. 

Patrick takes a deep breath before continuing. “But this is all very new for me. I’ve-I’ve never gone out with a guy before. But then you came along and everything makes sense now. So,” Patrick says playing with the rings on David’s fingers. “So, I think we need to take this slow.”

Patrick feels David untangle himself from him and immediately feels the loss. But David turns to look at him, his eyes shy but earnest. “If we’re being honest here,” he says nervously. “This is all very new to me too. You’re the nicest person I’ve ever spent time with. So, I think going slow is best.”

Patrick raises his hand to cup David’s cheek, his eyes closing as he rests his head into Patrick’s palm. 

_I could stay here forever with you._

“Besides, this sweater is Givenchy and I can’t have it wrinkled from making out with you on this couch.”

* * *

The next week passes by quickly, the both of them falling back into the same rhythm they established before. Patrick walks with David to the art room before class, they sit in the corner painting, and they say their goodbyes after class, Patrick going to practice and David either going home or to visit Stevie.

Only it’s _very_ different from their usual routine now that they can sneak in kisses and light touches in between.

They both agree to keep things private, not wanting to show the entire school their relationship just yet. But Patrick can hardly contain himself from pulling David into the small alcove in the corner around the art room before class to kiss David and the small dimple next to his mouth that he’s been thinking of more than he’d like to admit. But David doesn’t seem to mind, falling into the kisses with a smile. 

They talk on the phone every night before bed, laughing together and talking about anything they can. They’ve fallen asleep with each other on the line more than once. 

It’s on the Friday of that week when David brings up baseball and Patrick wonders if David were willing to come to his game the next day. 

“I just don’t understand why the helmets are necessary. They don’t add anything to the overall aesthetic,” David said 

“They’re more for protection than looks David,” Patrick replies amused.

“Well there should be a solution that caters to both.”

“Why don’t you come up with a solution? David Rose, Expert Baseball Style Consultant.”

“Hm, I know you’re just teasing me, but I would 100% excel at that.”

Patrick chuckles as he absentmindedly strokes his paintbrush over his canvas.

“Would you want to come to one of my games?” He asks hesitantly.

David stops working and turns his head to Patrick. “Um, to one of your sports games?”

“Yeah, there’s one tomorrow, at noon. Our first game of the season actually. It’s just-just a thought.” Patrick bites the inside of his mouth nervously. “You-you don’t have to, if you don’t want to-”

“I’ll come.” Patrick immediately shuts his mouth in shock. 

“Really?”

“Yes,” David says with a shy smile. “Will there be hotdogs?”

Patrick grins wide. “Yes, the concessions stand is very well stocked. Are you sure you want to come? I know it’s not exactly your style,” Patrick says teasingly.

“I can enjoy sports ball from time to time,” David says tipping his nose up.

Patrick laughs, shaking his head. “You threw me a bit of a changeup.”

“I don’t know what that means.” Patrick laughs harder. 

* * *

Hotdogs are the last thing on David’s mind as he waits by the baseball field the next day. He can’t really imagine himself eating something that won’t make him immediately vomit due to nerves. He’s waiting behind the bleaches for Stevie, nervously tugging at the sleeves of his sweater.

David knows why he said yes to coming to Patrick’s game. He wants to be supportive and show Patrick that he cares about what he likes. That’s still not to say David doesn’t feel _very_ uncomfortable. 

He’s never once attended a school function, let alone a _sports game_. He feels out of place, watching students and families walk by, chatting happily. 

He keeps looking down at his phone, waiting for Stevie to text him that she’s here. It also serves as a good distraction from his anxiety about what to do. Does he go looking for Patrick? How open are they supposed to be with so many people around? Also what is the etiquette about cheering?

David’s mind is racing when his phone finally buzzes. He looks down, expecting to see a message from Stevie, but Patrick’s name flashes on his screen instead.

_Meet me behind the shed,_ it says. 

David looks around nervously, before his feet start moving towards the baseball field. The shed is tucked in the far left corner of the field, away from the bleaches, underneath the shade of trees. David follows chainlink fence that covers the perimeter of the baseball field. He passes by some of the other baseball players, keeping his head tucked down and not making any eye contact. He reaches the shed and sees Patrick standing on the other side of the fence, leaning against the metal wall. 

He looks up and sees David, his eyes lighting up immediately. 

“Hey,” Patrick breathes out, gripping the chainlink fence that separates them with his fingers. “You came.”

“I said I would,” David said, clearing his throat, looking around to make sure no one was watching. But Patrick’s eyes stay on him, his lips turn upwards.

“Was it for the hotdogs?” He asked teasingly. 

David rolls his eyes playfully. “Only for the hotdogs,” he teases back, raising his fingers to weave into the fence as well, near Patrick’s so that they’re almost touching. 

“Nervous?” David asks.

Patrick lets out a deep breath. “Yeah, a little. The first game is always the worst. My parents are here and baseball is big in my family.”

David smiles gently. “They’ll be proud no matter what.”

Patrick smiles back, his eyes fond. “I have to go warmup now,” Patrick says regretfully. “But I just wanted to see you, before the game."

David nods. “Good luck.”

Patrick doesn’t walk away and stays for a minute longer, looking at David and moving his fingers so they lightly brush against David’s. 

“Promise to only look at me?” Patrick murmurs, his cheeks stained red. David smiles back and laces his fingers with Patrick’s through the fence.

“Only if you promise not to wear that fugly helmet.” 

Patrick tips his head back and laughs loudly making David smile wider. He likes making Patrick laugh. 

_I’ve never had this before. You make me want it. You make me want to stay._

“I’ll come and find you after the game,” Patrick says, taking a step back, is fingers leaving David’s.

David nods, taking a step back as well. Patrick gives him one more smile before turning around and walking away. 

David stays there for a minute later before making his way back as well. 

* * *

Patrick feels the weight of the game during the bottom of the sixth inning when they’re down by one. He wipes the sweat that’s gathered on his forehead, taking a deep breath through his nose. He rolls his shoulders to release some of the tension in his body, his eyes focused on the batter from the other team that’s currently walking to the plate. 

From the corner of his eye, he can see his parents, his dad sitting on the edge of the bleacher, hands resting on his knees. His mom is next to him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He knows he should feel comforted by their presence, but Patrick feels his nerves kick up even more, wanting to make them proud. His eyes then snap to Sam who is crouching at the home plate, gesturing signals to their pitcher. This is his chance to show Sam he made the right choice in choosing Patrick over Brock, who is currently sitting in their dugout, his arms crossed and watching Patrick closely. 

His eyes have been focused solely on Patrick the entire game, as if he were waiting for Patrick to slip up just once. The batter misses his first swing, the umpire yelling, “Strike one!”

Patrick lets out a harsh breath, widening his stance and punching his glove. He tries to pump his body up, to force some excitement in. But his heart continues to hammer in his chest. He sees the batter strike out again, and his eyes gaze up towards the stands. He looks past his parents, past his classmates, up to the very top of the bleachers. There, David is sitting with Stevie, away from everyone else and keeping to himself. Their eyes meet and David gives Patrick a shy smile, raising his hand for a tentative wave. Something washes over Patrick in that moment that calms his heart and clears his mind. 

He’s broken out of his spell at the sound of a sharp crack piercing through the air. Patrick’s body immediately springs into action, his hands steady and eyes sharp, his heart filled with David. 

* * *

“So what does ‘bottom of the ninth inning’ mean?” David asks Patrick on the phone later that night. He’s laying in bed, twirling a pencil in his hand as he sketches in the notebook Patrick bought him. 

“It’s the second half of the last section of the game. So the game went until the bottom of the ninth because we were tied,” Patrick replies.

“But you won,” David says happily.

Patrick laughs on the other end. “Yes, we won today.”

David smiles, thinking back to the game earlier today. David still doesn’t understand _everything,_ but he does know Patrick’s team won today and that made Patrick happy. And if Patrick was happy, David was happy. Even happier when Patrick pulled him into the shed after the game to kiss David senseless.

He thinks back to the last moments of the game, watching as Patrick jumped up and down, running to his other teammates, clapping them on the back, everyone hollering. 

David didn’t realize he was clapping until he felt Stevie elbow him in the side with a smirk on her face. He was also standing, when he stood he has no idea. 

Stevie made a point to remind him the entire way home. 

* * *

“Do you want to come over my house today?” Patrick asks David. They’re standing in an empty classroom during lunch, hands roaming over each other’s bodies. Patrick’s arms are wrapped around David’s waist, rubbing soothing circles into his back. David has his arms around Patrick’s neck, absentmindedly running his hands through his short hair. 

David pulls back slightly, his eyebrows raised. “Your house?”

“Yeah, I don’t have practice today. My dad is working late tonight and my mom is going to be at my aunt’s for dinner. I have the house free.”

David bites his lip, his mind wracking with what to say. Their relationship has been progressing at a steady pace, just some light necking in empty classrooms or in their cars. David doesn’t know if they’re ready to take anything to the next level. The conversation of what to call all of _this_ hasn’t even been brought up yet. 

In the past, his relationships have shown an unhealthy trend whenever David brought up the conversation of exclusivity. He wouldn’t even make it to the end of his sentence before the person he was dating was running away in the opposite direction, uninterested in tacking down any commitment. He didn’t want Patrick to run away. So David chose not to talk about it. 

Seeing David’s apprehension, Patrick quickly amends his statement. “Just to hang out, watch a movie, just the two of us.”

David sags into Patrick’s arms, relief spreading through his body. “We could do that,” he murmurs softly before pressing his lips to Patrick’s. 

Patrick responds enthusiastically, wrapping his arms tighter around David. He pulls away after a moment and rests their foreheads together, their breathing ragged.

“What seminal romcom will we watch tonight?” David asks and Patrick laughs, pulling him back in, falling into the kiss with a smile. 

* * *

“Most embarrassing memory,” Patrick asks David. They’re lounging in his living room, empty paper plates and an even emptier pizza box on the coffee table in front of them. 

“Mm, definitely performing ‘The Number’ in front of two Jonas Brothers. They tried giving me notes afterwards.”

“What’s ‘The Number?’” Patrick asks.

David scrunches his face up painfully. “It’s definitely too early in our relationship to dive into that.”

Patrick chuckles and stands up. “Come with me,” he says putting out his hand towards David. David reaches up and takes it hesitantly. Patrick pulls him up and laces their fingers together and leads them out of the house to his backyard.

The sun is just about to set, the sky washed with oranges and pink. He walks them over to his treehouse and stands by the ladder. David is watching him carefully, his eyes squinting suspiciously. 

“Okay, up,” Patrick says indicating to the ladder. 

“Um, absolutely not.”

“David it’s just a ladder-”

“I’m fully aware of that. And you expect me to _climb that_?”

“That’s right,” Patrick replies with an amused smirk.

David looks disgusted and Patrick laughs harder. “It’ll be worth it, trust me,” Patrick says, gently nudging David forward. 

David still looks very apprehensive so Patrick places a soft kiss into David’s neck, feeling him shiver. David takes a moment to look up and Patrick swats his hip playfully, David yelping a little. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” David mutters with a glare before hoisting his body up the ladder. Patrick stays below and watches him climb to make sure David doesn’t lose his footing. Also to stare up at David’s ass, but he doesn’t have to know that. 

Once David has safely made it up, Patrick begins climbing up, taking only a fraction of the time it took David. 

“Okay, this is _very quaint_ , but clearly too small for two guys,” David says kneeling on the floor. 

Patrick grins and carefully makes his way to the opening, swinging his legs out. 

“Come here,” he mutters, extending his hand for David to take. He pulls him to sit next to him, their knees knocking, their shoulders pressed together as David struggles to sit down gracefully. 

“This cannot be safe-oh.” 

Patrick watches David close his mouth as he takes in the view. His eyes scan everywhere, completely entranced. But as David looks out towards the world, Patrick keeps his eyes on David, needing to remember this moment. 

Patrick reaches his hand out and touches David’s cheek, joy flooding through him as David leans into his touch. 

_Stay with me._

David tears his eyes away from the view and looks at Patrick, his eyes shining brightly. 

“The physical exertion was worth it for this view.”

Patrick keeps his hand on David’s face, his thumb stroking David’s cheek. 

“I’ve been wanting to share it with you for a while,” Patrick says taking his hand away and leaning back to look out. 

“Is this somewhere you come often?”

“Only when I need to think. Clear my head,” Patrick says. “My dad and I built this for my ninth birthday. I spent most of my time here until I started high school. It didn’t feel cool to hang out in a treehouse anymore. But whenever I felt stressed or worried, I always made it back here. Helped me to forget.”

David nods, his eyes shining with understanding. And Patrick knew David would. No one has ever understood Patrick like David has. 

“I have a spot too,” David says. “Maybe I’ll take you there one day.”

“I’d like that,” Patrick replies softly. 

They’re both silent, looking out into the expansive world together. Without saying anything, David scoots himself closer to Patrick and intertwines their hands together. 

He leans his head on Patrick’s shoulder and says softly, “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Patrick closes his eyes and swallows hard, words lost in his throat. He turns his head so that it’s resting on top of David’s, breathing in David’s scent, spicy and warm with a hint of citrus and together they simply exist. 

_For you, anything._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGST WARNING
> 
> Just a little bit of angst. It's not the big kahuna, but a wrench has to be thrown in there a little bit for these two to shake things up a little. 
> 
> Also this chapter was supposed to be two separate ones, but you guys have been so freaking nice and I wanted to give you a slightly longer read.

“What are you doing tonight?” Stevie asks from the other line. David is currently sitting in his car waiting for Patrick to get out of practice. They agreed to go over David’s house to watch a movie from the list after he got out of practice at three, David going to pick him up. 

David arrived fifteen minutes early, choosing to take up his time calling Stevie. 

“Patrick and I are watching a movie. You should come over,” David says.

“Absolutely not. I refuse to watch you two make-out again. I learned my lesson when I came over to hang out with you guys three days ago.”

David immediately blushes at the memory. It was the farthest he and Patrick had ever gone physically. It started innocently enough, just the two of them in David’s room, lying in bed, _just_ lying in bed, talking when Patrick showed him a picture he found of David on the internet earlier that day. It was a God awful photo of him at one of his parent’s Christmas parties performing “The Number” in a metallic grey suit with his hair straightened out. 

David immediately reached for Patrick’s phone to delete the picture, but he put up a fight, the two of them wrestling on David’s bed playfully. David was able to finally pin Patrick down, straddling his waist holding Patrick’s hands up above his head. 

They were both breathing heavily, hair mussed, their clothes awry, with matching grins on their face. But as David stared down at Patrick, the air between them became charged, a stirring starting deep in David’s belly. Patrick’s grin slowly disappeared, his eyes darkening, his breathing become even heavier. 

David sunk down into Patrick, crashing their lips together, Patrick kissing David back just as fiercely. David let Patrick’s hands go so he could roam his body with his fingers, Patrick’s hands gripping David’s back through his sweater. 

The heat between them grew until David had to rip his sweater off, leaving him in just a thin t-shirt above Patrick. 

Patrick looked up at him, his eyes wild, trailing his hands up David’s chest. He pulled David back down to kiss him again, his hands traveling up David’s back underneath the shirt, raking his nails into his skin. 

David moaned into Patrick’s mouth, which made him kiss him deeper, opening his mouth to seek out David’s tongue with his, intertwining them together. 

David could feel his excitement for Patrick grow tighter in his pants, gently grinding down into Patrick. That’s when he felt Patrick against his thigh, the heat penetrating through his pants. David grinded down harder, making Patrick gasp into his mouth.

David began to trail his hands down Patrick’s chest, down his stomach, to the top of his jeans, teasing his fingers against the waistband. He moved his hand down to unbutton Patrick’s pants when his door swung open.

_“Hey, I brought the movie-oh my God.”_

David quickly jumped off of Patrick, facing Stevie with his eyes wide open. 

_“Stevie!”_ David manages to say, his voice high. Patrick stayed laying down on the bed, covering his face with his hands. 

_“Okay, this is incredibly awkward,”_ Stevie says, walking backwards. _“I’m just going to go down stairs to the theater. Clearly you both need a little time to get ready.”_ She’s biting her lip hard, trying her best not to laugh. 

Patrick quickly moves a pillow to cover his groin and then returning his hands back to his face. 

She slams the door on her way out, leaving just the both of them. They don’t do much after that. 

“You should have knocked,” David says into his phone.

“When have I ever knocked before entering your room? Maybe _you_ should have locked your door.”

“It happened very suddenly. We weren’t even really _doing_ anything.”

“Oh, yes you were. You were making the same noises just like when I used to go down-”

“Okay, let’s not revisit our sordid past right now."

“Think of it this way, at least it was me and not your mom.”

David immediately shivers at the thought, the image of his mother’s hysteria crowding his brain. 

“So I will be staying home this evening while you and Patrick explore each other’s bodies.”

“Okay, ew.”

“Best wishes,” Stevie says before she hangs up. David shakes his head and mutters, “Warmest regards," putting his phone down and tilting his head back on the headrest. 

The memories of Patrick’s body beneath his comes flooding back again, causing him to heat up uncomfortably.

“Fuck,” David mutters. He undoes his seatbelt and opens his car, stepping out. David is able to breathe better, forcing his body to calm down. He’s taking deep calming breaths when he hears someone call his name. 

“David Rose.”

David’s face snaps towards the voice, his eyebrows shooting up when he sees Brock walking towards him. He has his uniform still on, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. He stalks towards David in slow, measured steps, making David feel like he’s being preyed on. 

_What the fuck?_

“Hi?” David says confused. 

“I see you’re waiting for Brewer,” Brock says cooly. He stops when he’s only a couple of steps away from him. David feels trapped. 

“Um.” David’s eyes dart everywhere in the parking lot, hoping Patrick was nearby. 

“You guys have gotten pretty close.” Brock takes one step closer to David, and he presses himself closer to his car. 

“We’re friends,” David says lamely. 

“Just friends?”

“Yes, just friends. I help him with his art class.”

“I see,” Brock says. He keeps his eyes directly on David’s, a smug smirk on his face. 

“Well, listen. If you ever get tired of Brewer, just know that I’m certainly available.”

David’s eyes narrow, annoyance brewing in his chest.

“Excuse me?” David asks harshly. 

“Just letting you know there might be a better option for you,” Brock crosses his arms arrogantly, leering down at David. “I’m sure I’ll be an improvement.”

David’s lips press into a hard line, anger bubbling over. “You underestimate my standards,” David says coldly. 

Brock narrows his eyes at David, a sneer forming on his face. Before Brock can say anymore, someone clasps a hand on his shoulder, pulling him backwards. 

“Brock,” Patrick says calmly, moving to stand in between him and David. “I think you forgot something in the locker room.”

Brock scowls at him, “Just having a friendly chat, Brewer.”

Patrick keeps a cool demeanor, his hands in his pockets, standing firmly. 

“We had an agreement, Brock.”

Brock doesn’t respond, continuing to stare Patrick down. But he doesn’t budge from his spot. 

“I think it’s time to go,” Patrick says softly. David can’t see Patrick’s face from behind him, but something shifts in Brock. He scowls one more time before turning on his heel and walking away.

He’s only a few feet away before he stops, turning back around to look at Patrick. 

“Don’t forget our deal, Brewer.” With that he turns around one more time and walks away for good, his shoulder set. 

After he’s out of sight, Patrick turns around to face David, concern etched on his face. 

“You okay?” He asks, resting his hands on David’s shoulders. David nods his head stiffly.

“What was he talking about? What deal?”

Something flashes in Patrick’s eyes, but it’s gone before David can figure out what it is. 

“Something to do with the team, it’s not important.”

David smiles tightly and nods his head, not wanting to press any further. 

“Okay.”

Patrick kisses his cheek and walks around to the passenger side. David takes one more deep breath before opening his side and getting in, driving the both of them to his house. 

* * *

David is sitting beside him, munching on a bag of chips while _Legally Blonde_ plays on the big screen in David’s theater. Patrick was looking forward to dragging David down into the seats with his kisses, but is now thoroughly distracted by what happened with Brock. 

_“What’s he talking about? What deal?”_

_Answer truthfully._

But he didn’t, not really. Patrick broke their rule and lied. And feels terrible about it. 

The past few weeks have been nothing but bliss for Patrick, an escape from reality filled with kissing and laughing with David. He’s forced himself to forget about the bet, pushing the thought away and replacing it with David instead. 

He’s also pushed away questions about their future, their impending graduation only a few weeks away. He would be here and David would be in New York. 

Patrick has selfishly thought about asking David if he would stay, but knows he would never actually verbalize it because it is exactly that, selfish. 

To ask David to give up his dreams for Patrick would be unfair, especially since he knows how hard David has worked to get to where he is now. 

But what if Patrick can be included in that dream? He knows that many have touted the difficulty of long distance, but for David, Patrick would do just about anything to keep him. They could coordinate visits, long weekends, holidays, spring breaks, and spend that time with each other. Patrick didn't mind traveling hundreds of miles if it meant seeing David. 

_It can work. It will work, if it means I get to have David._

Patrick is about to start the conversation when David takes the remote and pauses the movie. Before he can say anything, David lunges forward, kissing Patrick deep and messy.

_It can wait until later._

Patrick wraps his arms around David, returning his kisses with just as much passion, raking his fingers up and down David’s back. 

David pulls back, Patrick slightly dazed. “Sorry, you look very cute in your uniform, I couldn’t help myself.”

Patrick kept his baseball jersey on, knowing David liked it and thanked the heavens for his decision. 

“You paused Reese Witherspoon telling her ex-boyfriend off to kiss me?” Patrick teases. 

“It’s about priorities sometimes.”

Patrick laughs and pulls David back into the kiss, his brain melting when David moves his hands down to slips his hands into the back pockets of Patrick’s jeans. 

Patrick moans into David’s mouth, his hand trailing down to brush over the top of David’s pants.

He’s about to slip his hand into the waistband, when the door swings open. 

“David, your mother and I have decided to have a barbecue-oh my."

“ _Holy fuck!_ ” David yells, pushing himself off Patrick. 

“Language son,” David’s father says sternly. 

Patrick has never met David’s father before, Mr. and Mrs. Rose being out of the house whenever Patrick came over. 

He has an uncanny resemblance to David, thick, dark eyebrows framing his face. 

“I’m sorry to have uh, interrupted your activities boys, but I just wanted to let you know that your mother and I would like you and Alexis to join us for dinner outside. It’s a beautiful day and we don’t want to waste it.”

“I thought you and mom were flying to Seattle to meet with that movie producer from Prague,” David says petulantly, his arms crossed against his chest. 

“Well, we thought it might be nice to stay home with you kids. Although your friend is also more than welcome to join us,” Mr. Rose says, gesturing towards Patrick.

Patrick clears his throat awkwardly and steps forward, his cheeks red with embarrassment. 

“Hi Mr. Rose, I’m Patrick, Patrick Brewer,” he says extending his hand out. 

Mr. Rose smiles warmly, shaking Patrick’s hand with a firm grip. 

“It’s very nice to meet you Patrick. Say! You play ball?” He asks, pointing to Patrick’s jersey. 

“Yes, shortstop for the high school,” Patrick replies, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Well I’ll be. You know, David used to play little league-”

“Okay, I am ending this, right now,” David says, cutting his father off with flourishing hands. 

“Well, when you boys are ready, please join us outside for dinner. Don’t keep your mother waiting, David,” Mr. Rose says with a pointed look. He turns on his heel and walks out, closing the door to the theatre softly behind him.

Patrick is suppressing a grin behind hand as David paces back and forth restlessly.

“That is the _third time_ someone has interrupted while we have tried to… _connect_.”

“We should probably utilize a lock from now on,” Patrick says with a grin. 

David stops pacing and looks down at the floor, his arms crossed protectively across his chest. 

“You, um don’t have to stay. For dinner. You can leave.”

Patrick only grins wider, stepping up to David to wrap his arms around his waist. 

“You couldn’t pay me to leave,” he says with a cheeky grin and David groans, dropping his head to Patrick’s shoulder. 

“Then I’ll leave.”

* * *

David is panicking as he and Patrick make their way to his backyard. It’s bad enough having his dad walk in on them, but the idea of Patrick actually interacting with his family? David wants the world to swallow him up. 

“You know,” David says turning around abruptly making Patrick bump into him. “We could always go back to my room and _connect_. The door has a lock.” David shimmies his shoulders a little, moving into Patrick’s space hoping to seduce him away from his family. 

Patrick’s eyes darken, his eyes dropping down to David’s lips, moving forward so that his are barely grazing David’s. David’s breath hitches, thinking he’s succeeded when Patrick murmurs, “Not a chance, David,” and takes a step back, the grin back on his face. 

David huffs with annoyance and turns back on his heel. “Fine, you asked for it.”

He stomps his way out the door, Patrick’s laughter following him. 

* * *

Patrick can’t help but feel excited at the idea of getting to know David’s family. He’s had no interactions with them, aside from a handful of run-ins with Alexis. The Rose family was a mystery for him and the rest of the town. It felt like a gift to peak into their lives just a little bit. 

He is nervous though. He wants them to like him. Needs them to like him for his plans of being with David after graduation to work.

Alexis and his parent’s are already outside, sitting at their large glass patio table, lounging luxuriously as the staff cooks in the outdoor kitchen.

Alexis is wearing a short, white sundress with black fringe cascading from the hem and wide-brimmed sun hat, her legs crossed daintily as she scrolls through her phone. Mr. Rose is dressed in an immaculate suit, a light grey number with a lavender pocket square tucked into the breast pocket, sitting back with his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes closed and head tilted back taking in the sunlight. And finally, Mrs. Rose is wearing a long black gown with gold metallic pom-poms. She’s holding a small, black lace parasol with one hand, the other holding a glass of red wine. 

“David, how wonderful of you to grace us with your presence,” Mrs. Rose says. Patrick can’t pinpoint what her accent is, deciding to just accept it as something that is just unique to Mrs. Rose. 

“And Patrick, we’re happy you’ll be joining us this evening,” Mr. Rose says, gesturing towards the two empty seats across from him. 

“Thank you for having me,” Patrick replies sincerely. 

“I hope you like burgers,” Mr. Rose says.

“I do, yes, love burgers,” Patrick answers awkwardly, taking a seat next to Alexis. She smiles at him, tapping the tip of his nose with her finger. Patrick was expecting something completely out of his wheelhouse, relief flooding through him now that he knows he doesn’t have to worry about which fork and knife to use. 

“John, could you top off my glass please,” Mrs. Rose says passing her wine glass over. “So, Peter, Alexis tells us you and David are in the same year.”

“His name is Patrick, mom,” David says, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Oh, my apologies Parker. Tell us, what are your plans after graduation?”

Patrick grins while David tilts his head back, up towards the sky. 

“I plan on majoring in business over at Newbury.”

“Business, a sensible choice,” Mr. Rose says pouring wine into his wife’s glass. “Any dreams with that degree?”

“Yeah, entrepreneurial dreams definitely. I would love to run my own business in the future,” Patrick replies and there’s a glint in Mr. Rose’s eyes. 

“Well, if you ever need any advice, I am more than happy to help,” Mr. Rose says kindly. 

“Oh John, no talk of business at the dinner table please,” Mrs. Rose says taking a large sip of her wine. 

“Yeah, it’s very boring,” Alexis agrees from behind her phone. 

“I’d really appreciate that, Mr. Rose,” Patrick replies with a smile. 

“Of course, and our David here,” Mr. Rose says clapping a hand onto David’s shoulder. David looks like he wants to physically recoil at the touch and Patrick laughs into his hand. “Going off to one of the best art programs in the world. We couldn’t be prouder.”

“Yes dear, we are teeming with excitement for you,” Mrs. Rose says fondly. 

“Going a bit too far for my tastes, but if it makes you happy, we’ll make it work.”

Patrick feels his smile beginning to slip at the mention of David’s impending move. David also grimaces at his fathers words, keeping his eyes away from Patrick’s. 

“Although, I do hope you consider all your options carefully, David. It’ll be a tough road ahead for you if you choose to stick to just art.”

David squeezes his eyes shut, his lips pressed into a hard line. It’s obvious that they’ve had this conversation multiple times, the stress on David’ face evident. 

Patrick understands David’s parents, knows that their worry comes with the best of intentions. But Patrick wonders if they’ve every actually seen David’s art and the impact it can have on people. 

“David made our art teacher cry,” Patrick bursts out. 

All the Roses stop and turn to look at him. He feels nervous under their gaze, David looking at him with a confused expression. But Patrick presses on, needing to do this for him 

“Our art teacher, Ms. Moore, started to cry when she saw David’s latest painting. Said it was a ‘provocatively haunting response to the aching need of self-preservation’ and ‘stunningly resilient’.” 

Patrick remembers the moment perfectly. He was sitting with David in the corner when Ms. Moore wandered over to check on Patrick’s progress. One glance at David’s painting moved her to tears, placing a reassuring hand on David’s shoulder as she told him it was one of his best works of art. 

The Roses are quiet, taking in Patrick’s words. David is staring at him with an expression that Patrick can’t make out. 

Patrick swallows hard. “It really is a beautiful painting, as is the case with all the work he’s created really. Your son is very talented. New York is lucky to have him.”

Mrs. Rose regards him carefully, her eyes contemplative. Mr. Rose looks shocked but apologetic, as if he understands the weight of his words. Alexis looks smug, a knowing smirk on her face as she looks at Patrick. 

Mrs. Rose breaks the silence. “Well David, you must show us this piece so that we may witness it for ourselves,” she says softly to David. She nods encouragingly at him. 

“Yes, son. Bring it to us when you can,” Mr. Rose says squeezing David’s shoulder. 

David nods his head stiffly, swallowing hard, his eyes shining slightly. 

“So Patrick,” Alexis says. “Did you know David used to pay baseball?”

* * *

David walks Patrick back to his car silently, his shoulders tense and his eyes cast downwards. He’s been quiet for most of dinner, except to put Alexis down whenever she mentioned an embarrassing story, and Patrick worries that he might have overstepped. 

They reach his car and Patrick is about to apologize when David pushes him against his car and smashes their lips together, kissing Patrick hard and desperate. 

Patrick returns the kisses with an equal amount of fervor, relieved that David isn’t upset with him.

They finally pull apart, their foreheads pressed together, breathing heavily between them.

“Thank you,” David whispers, his eyes bright with tears. 

“For what?” Patrick asks, reaching his hand up the thumb away a tear. 

“For defending me. For believing in me. For being there,” David’s breathe hitches at the last one. 

“I’ll always be here, David. For as long as you want me,” Patrick says softly, rubbing his thumb against David’s cheek. 

David closes his eyes, nodding against Patrick before kissing him again, soft and slow. 

_Want me, want me always._

* * *

“We still don’t know how Alexis managed to sneak into that casino in Quebec, but it got her away from that traveling biker gang so we try not to ask questions,” David says flippantly.

Patrick shakes his head, still in awe of the many stories David has about his family. They’re sitting on the bleachers outside by the football field during lunch, opting to take in some fresh air instead of an empty classroom or secluded corner in the library. There are a couple of other students sitting around, taking in the sun, so David and Patrick are careful, sneaking in light touches here and there. 

“What has been your favorite place to travel?” Patrick asks popping a grape in his mouth.

“Definitely Japan. Although we keep going there when the cherry blossoms aren’t in season which is an obvious flaw in planning,” David replies stealing one of Patrick’s grapes.

“Don’t they bloom in March, while we’re in school?”

“That’s not my fault! Besides, I think it’s incredibly educational to travel to Japan for botanical studies. I haven’t learned shit in biology.”

Patrick chuckles, amused by David’s antics. He reaches to take David’s hand in his, knowing from their angle none of the other kids can see them. David squeezes his hand in Patrick’s, a blush blooming on his cheeks. Patrick is about to sneak a kiss when he hears a voice from behind him. 

“Hey, Brewer!” Patrick drops David’s hand quickly and turns around to see Sam walking towards them. 

He stands up clearing his throat. “I’ll be right back,” he says to David, walking to meet Sam at the bottom of the bleachers. 

“Hey,” he says once he reaches the bottom.

“Do you have time before practice to talk? I want to go over some plays with you.”

Patrick nods his head firmly. “Sure, no problem."

“Great,” Sam responds. Patrick sees his eyes scan the bleachers before landing on David. Patrick tenses up. 

“Didn’t know you hung out with David Rose,” he says. 

“Yeah, we’re friends,” Patrick responds casually. But he feels his body reject the word “friend” wanting to say something else. “He helps me with my art class."

“Cool,” Sam replies. “I’ll meet you in the locker room after school.”

“Sounds good.”

Sam nods at him one last time before walking back towards the school. Patrick takes a moment to calm his nerves before walking back up to David.

* * *

David watches Patrick walk away, playing with his rings and trying to distract himself as he waits for Patrick to come back. 

He’s talking to another boy, the captain of the baseball team David thinks, his back turned away from David. 

David takes his phone out and texts Stevie, asking if he can hang out with her in the motel, suddenly feeling like he doesn’t want to be alone after school while Patrick is at practice. 

As he waits for Stevie to reply, David goes back to playing with his hands, pulling on them nervously as an unfamiliar nagging begins to nudge at him inside. 

He tries very hard not to think about how quickly Patrick let go of his hand. 

* * *

Patrick is doing his homework in his room later that night when his mom knocks on his door softly. 

“I thought you might want a little snack,” she says bringing him a small plate of cookies and some milk. 

He grins at her, taking the snack gratefully. “Thanks mom,” he says biting into the warm cookie. 

“So, prom is coming up,” she says taking a seat on his bed. “Have you and your friends finished planning?”

“Not yet, just a couple of things here and there.”

She nods her head. “Your suit is ready. I hung it up in your closet in a garment bag.”

“Thanks,” Patrick says smiling. 

“Any idea who you're going to go with?”

Patrick feels his body freeze, his heart thudding against his chest. 

“N-no, not yet.”

“Oh, well that’s fine. Still enough time to find yourself a pretty girl.”

Patrick swallows thickly, nodding his head. He wants to say something to her, but the words dies in his throat.

_Mom, I’m gay._

“Have a goodnight sweetheart,” his mom says, kissing the top of his head. When she closes the door softly behind her, Patrick lets his head collapse onto his desk, his eyes squeezed shut.

* * *

David finds himself at another one of Patrick’s baseball games on a balmy Tuesday evening. He’s by himself, Stevie working at the motel until late at night, so David tries to be as invisible as possible, sitting in the far left corner of the last row in the bleachers.

He sees Patrick in his uniform down in the field walking with a bat, the fugly helmet shielding his face. 

“Let’s go Patrick!” 

David’s head snaps down towards the foot of the bleachers where Patrick’s parents are currently sitting, clapping their hands.

David smiles, amused by how cute they are, how happy they look cheering their son. 

David wonders if he’ll ever get a chance to meet them. 

He wrings his fingers together, suddenly nervous at the idea of speaking with Mr. and Mrs. Brewer.

Patrick still has not told his parents, or anyone for that matter, about David, keeping their relationship a secret, which David is okay with. Kind of. 

Okay, maybe he’s not _completely_ okay with it, more like he’s used to being kept a secret. 

There’s been an incessant nagging since the day they were sitting on the bleachers during lunch. The day Patrick dropped his hand as if it burned. He knows that they agreed to be careful about exposing their relationship to everyone, wanting Patrick to choose when he wants the world and his family to know. But that still doesn’t stop David from hurting just a little. 

David is no stranger when it come to being used as someone’s sexual experiment, doing everything behind locked doors or dark corners. Curiosity has always been David’s selling point, a no strings attached deal that is too tempting to pass up. And David has never minded, because at the end of the day, he has also gotten something out of it. 

But it’s different with Patrick, isn’t it?

For the first time ever, there’s an ache in knowing he’s Patrick’s secret, as hard as he tries to push it away. 

What would it be like to walk down the halls holding hands with Patrick? To be able to kiss him during lunch in the cafeteria for everyone to see? To sit with his parents at his baseball games, cheering him on together?

There’s a longing deep inside of David that keeps clawing inside of him to be let out. But he refuses, because these thoughts will eventually lead to expectations and expectations inevitably lead to disappointment. David doesn’t want that with Patrick. 

David shakes the feeling away and focuses back on the game. 

Patrick swings his bat, making contact with the baseball hard, sending it flying far into the field. Everyone around him stands up to cheer, but David forces himself to keep sitting, protecting their secret while his muscles scream at him to let him stand up as well. 

* * *

“Great game, Brewer,” Sam says, clapping him on the back with a wide grin. 

“Thanks Sam. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Patrick says, waving good-bye. 

He turns towards the crowd, looking for David, hoping to pull him into the shed for post-game kisses, but can’t find his dark head of hair anywhere.

He takes his phone out to call him when he sees his parents weave through the crowd to get to him.

“Great game son,” his dad says when he’s near enough, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. 

“We’re so proud of you sweetheart,” his mom says, gently cupping his cheek with her hand. 

“Thanks,” Patrick mutters, a blush creeping up his cheeks. 

“Let’s celebrate, yeah? Dinner at Carlo’s tonight?” 

“Sure, I just have to find someone first,” Patrick says, still scanning the crowd, hoping to see David somewhere. 

He finally spots him, walking towards the parking lot. 

“I’ll be five minutes,” he says to his parents, jogging towards David. 

“Hey,” he calls out, grinning. But his smile drops when he sees David’s face, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips pressed together tightly.

“Hi,” he says quietly. He’s playing with the rings on his fingers, his eyes looking everywhere except at Patrick’s.

“David?” Patrick asks, taking a step towards him, reaching out to touch him. But David takes a step back, keeping the space between them. Patrick feels his heart constrict, panic bubbling in him.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, concern dripping from his voice. 

David hastily shakes his head. “N-nothing! Just a lot on my mind. Sorry, you were really good today,” David stutters back with a tight smile. 

Worried, Patrick reaches down to take David’s hand, but David moves his hands away, placing them firmly at his sides. Patrick stares down at his outstretched hand, reaching for David’s, his head squeezing painfully. 

“David, what’s going on-”

“I’m fine,” David says cutting him off. Patrick watches David take a deep breath, his eyes closed. He wants to take David in his arms, chase away whatever is hurting him, but doesn’t dare to move in fear of chasing David away instead. 

When David opens them back up, he looks more relaxed. He smiles at Patrick again, this time gentle and real and Patrick feels relieved. 

“I promise, I’m fine. I’m really happy for you,” he says smiling. 

Patrick smiles back, happy that David feels better. He steps up to give him a kiss, but David immediately steps back again, the hurt returning to Patrick.

“What-”

“Your parents,” David says simply. Patrick blinks at him in confusion and David nods behind him. Patrick turns around and sees his parents walking towards them. He stands up straighter, and takes his own step back from David, seeing the hurt flash in David’s eyes for a second before it’s gone. Patrick feels his head squeeze even more. 

“Patrick, ready to go son?” His dad asks. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Patrick says, his eyes darting everywhere. His parents look at him and David, waiting patiently for Patrick to introduce them.

“Mom, dad, this is David, David Rose. He’s, um, he’s a friend,” Patrick says, his mouth drying around the word ‘friend’. He looks up at David and sees something break in his eyes. 

_No, no wait._

A lump forms in Patrick’s throat, wanting to say something else, anything else to make David know that he’s so much more than that, but David suddenly has a charming smile on his face, extending his hand out to his parent’s to shake. 

“It’s so nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Brewer,” he says shaking their hands.

“It’s nice to meet you too dear,” his mom says kindly. “Do you and Patrick share any classes?”

“Just his art class. I try my best to help him as much as I can, although I wish his skills with a paintbrush matched with his skills with a bat,” David says teasingly. 

His dad laughs loudly, “Yes, we’ve seen some of the paintings Patrick has brought home with him. Very, _colorful_.”

“I think you mean _creative_ , dear. It’s a shame they’re too big to hang up on our refrigerator,” his mom jokes pulling a really laugh out of David that makes Patrick feel a little bit better.

“Yes, well he certainly takes advantage of the phrase, ‘artistic freedom’,” David says with a smile. Patrick feels the corners of his lips tugging, but he can still see something lingering in David’s eyes that makes him nervous. 

“Well, I should get going, lots of homework tonight,” David says, stepping backwards. “It was really nice meeting you Mr. and Mrs. Brewer.” Patrick feels his heart tugging after him, wanting to wrap him in his arms to find out what’s bothering David. 

“You too dear! Don’t be a stranger, you’re welcome to come to our house whenever you’d like,” his mom calls after him, waving. 

“Especially because you’ve been helping Patrick pass this art class,” his dad says with a laugh. David grins back at them before turning around and walking quickly to his car. Patrick feels panic blooming in his chest from watching David walk away. 

“I’ll be right back,” Patrick says, his eyes following David. His mother looks at him for a beat longer before taking his dad’s arm and walking them to their car. 

“We’ll be waiting in the car, sweetheart.”

He nods his head and jogs after David. David parked in the farthest spot from the baseball field, away from everyone else. His shoulders are tense, and his long legs walk quickly, his hands balled into fists by his sides. 

“David!” Patrick calls out. David stops and turns around to face him, his face neutral. They standing facing each other, not saying anything, the space between them feeling like they’re miles apart. 

“I’m sorry,” Patrick says lamely.

David shakes his head. “Don’t be. I understand.”

Patrick swallows hard, taking a hesitant step towards David, relieved that he doesn’t move away. 

“You know you’re more than that right? So much more,” Patrick whispers between them. 

David squeezes his eyes shut, and nods. 

Patrick keeps stepping closer until he’s only a step away. David’s eyes are still squeezed shut, the crease between his eyebrows hard. Patrick raises his hand to cup David’ cheek, wanting to sob when he feels David lean into it, his face relaxing immediately. David raises his hand and grasps on Patrick’s, moving it to kiss his palm. 

_Don’t go. Stay._

“I know,” he whispers and the knot in Patrick’s chest releases.

_How does he do it_ , Patrick wonders. _How does David make him feel better so quickly?_

Patrick feels a whisper in his chest say something, calling out to David, but he can’t make out what it says. But it feels strong and desperate, making his heart thud frantically against his chest. There’s so much more Patrick wants to say, but he doesn’t know the words to say them. 

David keeps looking into his eyes, before darting to look behind him. He drops Patrick’s hand, and Patrick feels the loss immediately, wanting to reach out and touch David again. But from behind him, he can hear voices as people being to make their way to their cars. 

One last time, David takes a step back from Patrick, but smiles at him reassuringly that it makes Patrick twinge. 

“I’ll call you later,” David mutters and Patrick nods back dumbly. 

_Stay._

David turns on his heel and makes his way back to his car, Patrick watching him walk away, the whisper calling out to him. 

* * *

Patrick is laying in his bed that night replaying the day in his head over and over again. He was able to keep the guilt down during dinner with his parents, only to have it burst out of him the moment he closed the door of his room. 

He called David an hour ago, needing to make sure things were okay, comforted by David’s voice the moment he picked up. 

They hung up with gentle goodnights and sweet dreams, but sleep doesn’t come to Patrick, still feeling restless. 

He knows he hurt David today. He knows he’s hurting him every day they continue to keep this a secret. He keeps reassuring him that it’s okay, that he understands, that he wants Patrick to decide how his story should continue.

But he knows how he wants this story to play out, with David, always.

And he has to tell his parent eventually, doesn’t he? He wants them to know. And surely they’ll find out if Patrick kisses David at the Spring Carnival.

_The bet._

Patrick groans loudly, rolling onto his stomach to bury his head in his pillow. 

_You really fucked up big time, Brewer._

* * *

David lays in bed wide awake, staring up at his ceiling. Patrick called an hour ago, sounding nervous on the phone and David’s heart broke a little for him. 

He was upset, so upset today at the game, the self-pity rolling into him like crashing waves. But how could he ever blame Patrick for it? 

So he tells him that it’s okay, that he understands, and that he wants Patrick to decide how his story should continue. 

But David is scared that story doesn’t include him. 

Meeting Patrick’s parents today, knowing that they’re as kind as their son, made David want to know them more, to weave Patrick tighter into his life. 

_But you’re leaving._

The excitement that once came with his thoughts of New York have turned into sorrow, the ache inside of him pulsing through his heart. 

David knows he has to go. Everything he’s done has been for this, and to give it all up for a boy would be irresponsible.

_But that boy is Patrick._

For the first time ever, David considers the idea of keeping this. Not thinking of an expiration date, but continuing on.

_But what if Patrick doesn’t want that?_

What if Patrick grows tired of David like all the others have done? What if he’s not worth keeping a secret for?

David takes a deep breath, pushing the thoughts away, sleep finally coming to him as the exhaustion settles into his body. He’ll think tomorrow.

* * *

Patrick is nervous when he makes his way to David’s locker. They didn’t meet up for their usual lunch date, David opting to go to the library to study for an upcoming test, so Patrick has been feeling antsy all day. He practiced in his head what he was going to say over and over since this morning, the words echoing in his skull. 

_Be with me. Be with me while you’re in New York. You have me, if you want me._

Patrick nervously rubs his sweaty hands on his jeans, turning the corner to David’s locker. David stands there, putting his books away in his bag and Patrick feels a lump forming in his throat. 

_Be with me. Be with me while you’re in New York. You have me, if you want me._

He approaches David cautiously, standing a foot away from him. 

“Hi.”

David turns to him and gives him a small smile. 

“Hi.”

David closes his locker and turns towards Patrick. They stare at each other for a moment and Patrick feels the words starting to form in his throat. 

_Be with me. Be with me while you’re in New York. You have me, if you want me._

But before he can say them, David is turning on his heel and walking towards the art room. 

Patrick blinks at him before scrambling forward, trying to catch up with him. They fall in step together, walking through the sea of students. Patrick’s hand brushes David’s every now and then, and he itches to hold it in his own. But he knows better not to. 

Patrick feels a pit in his stomach as they get closer to the art room, David still not saying anything. But then David walks by the entrance of the art room and to the little alcove tucked away in the corner where they often find themselves when they need a moment to themselves.

“David-”

David grabs Patrick’s wrist and pulls him so their chests bump together. He kisses Patrick gently, so gently that Patrick wants to cry, bringing his hand up to David’s cheek to cradle it. 

They pull away and the familiar twinkle is back in David’s eyes, shining brightly.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” he says, pressing another chaste kiss onto Patrick’s lips. 

Patrick feels his body sag in relief, pressing himself firmer into David. 

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” David says. “I got in my head about something. I didn’t meant to be grouchy.”

“No,” Patrick says shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry, David. I just,” Patrick sighs deeply, trying to form the words in his head. “What happened yesterday wasn’t okay, but just my parents-”

“Shh,” David says gently shushing Patrick, rubbing his shoulders. “I know, I know.” David kisses Patrick softly, leaning their foreheads together. “I know.”

Patrick nods his head, kissing David again. “I missed you,” he murmurs between their lips. 

“Missed you too,” David says, his fingers scratching the back of Patrick’s head. “Do you want to come over today?”

Patrick wants to, more than anything. But his commitment to his team tethers him down. 

“I can’t, practice is running long today.”

David pouts and Patrick can’t help himself but kiss it away until he feels David smiling against his mouth. 

“But I can on Friday. Game was cancelled.”

David nods happily, slipping his hands around Patrick’s neck. 

“Bring pizza,” he mutters before kissing Patrick again. 

Patrick’s worries disappear as he holds David, needing to keep this moment. 

_Be with me. Be with me while you’re in New York. You have me, if you want me._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just drenched with fluff. Like so much fluff. Tooth-rotting fluff. 
> 
> Also, it'll be a couple of days until I post the next chapter because Open Fic Night starts tomorrow and I don't know about you guys, but I am VERY excited. 
> 
> I think there's over 90 fics? Buckle up y'all, it's going to be crazy! Everyone stay hydrated!!
> 
> xoxo

“So you met his parents?” Stevie asks from behind the counter of the motel. David is sitting in the sofa of the motel office, flipping through a magazine dated from June of 1998. 

“Yes, but not like _that._ Just a casual hello from a…friend,” David says awkwardly, not meeting Stevie’s eyes. 

“A friend?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes. Patrick and I are friends,” David responds defiantly.

“ _Just_ friends?”

“Okay, this conversation is becoming _cruel-_ ”

“I’m just asking,” Stevie says raising her hands defensively. “Because from what I’ve seen, you guys have gone beyond the call of _friendship_.”

“Need I remind you that you and I have also done the same thing. As much as I want to forget,” David mutters. 

“Yes, I am well aware of that. But you and I are deeply embittered people who thrive on cataclysmic friend dynamics. Also we were both very, very high at the time.”

“Okay, well either way, I was introduced to Patrick’s parents as his _friend_. And that is completely okay with me,” David says with a tone of finality, returning his attention back to the magazine in his lap.

Stevie looks at him for a beat before saying, “Okay,” and returning to her game of solitaire on the computer. 

David is flipping through the magazine aggressively, tapping his foot against the floor restlessly as Stevie continues to stay silent. After what feels like an eternity, David feels himself burst.

“Okay, _fine_ , it bothered me a _little,_ ” David spits out, dropping the magazine on the coffee table in front of him. 

“I figured,” Stevie says, her eyes still on the screen. 

“But I can’t be mad at him. It’s not his fault. It’s a big thing, coming out to your parents. I can’t rush him just because I’m feeling selfish,” David says, pouting from the couch. 

“David, it’s okay to feel upset and to not be mad at Patrick. This is new for you too, being in a relationship with somebody who obviously cares about you.”

David closes his eyes and tips his head back. “I know, it’s just that,” David releases a harsh breath. “I’m not upset that he hasn’t told his parents. I’m just scared he might realize that it’s not worth it to keep such a big secret,” Davis confesses feeling especially sorry for himself.

“David, I think it’s pretty clear that Patrick likes you _a lot_. You just need to be a little more patient with him.”

David nods his head and lets out a deep sigh, grateful to have Stevie around to ground him, knowing he could never actually tell her that or else he would have to get her a neck brace to carry the weight of her big head. 

* * *

Patrick is walking out of practice later that day when he sees Alexis in the parking lot with a couple of his teammates. She’s chatting animatedly, the boys looking at her as if she were a dream. Patrick smiles ruefully, shaking his head when he catches her eye. 

Her eyes light up and she excuses herself from the group and walks towards Patrick, the boys groaning, a couple of them glaring right at him. 

“Hi button,” she says.

“Button?”

“Yeah, it’s my nickname for you because of your cute little button face,” she says tapping his nose. 

Patrick smiles warmly at her. “You need a ride home?”

“Actually, yes I would love one.”

They walk to his car together, Patrick opening up the passenger side for her and Alexis claps her hands happily at being doted on. 

He begins the drive to David’s house, the Elvis playing softly. 

“So,” Alexis says. “How are things with you and David?” There’s a twinkle in her eyes that makes Patrick laugh. 

“Great, we have a good time together,” Patrick answers fondly.

“That’s good. I’m always worried about him. He has trouble _connecting_ with other people.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that,” he replies with a small smile. 

“I think this is the longest relationship David has ever had.”

Patrick snaps his head towards her before turning his eyes back at the road. “Really?”

“Mhm. He’s been with a bunch of people, but no one has ever stuck around like you have.”

Something in Patrick throbs at Alexis’ words, hurting for David. David has touched lightly on his past relationships with Patrick, a lighthearted joke here and there. But Patrick knows there are deeper wounds in David that prevent him from opening himself up completely. 

“People haven’t been nice to him, have they?” Patrick asks softly. 

Alexis shakes her head. “No, they have not.”

A silence between them stretches as Patrick feels his body tensing. 

“But you have.”

Patrick grips the steering wheel tightly, surprised by Alexis’ words. 

“Are you going to stick around?” she asks, her eyes focused on the road. 

Patrick doesn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he replies firmly.

Alexis grins at him happily. “Good."

Patrick smiles back, a fondness for Alexis growing inside of him. As Patrick turns into the Rose’s driveway, another car pulls up behind them, Patrick recognizing the car as Stevie’s. 

He parks the car and gets out, turning around to see David stepping out of Stevie’s car. 

“Um, what’s going on here?” He asks gesturing himself and Alexis. 

“Chill David, button was just giving me a ride home from school,” Alexis said flipping her hair. 

“Who the fuck is button?” David asks wildly. Stevie stifles a laugh behind her hand and Patrick does the same. 

“Ew David, no need to be jealous,” Alexis says. She walks up to Patrick and gives him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for the ride, button.” She winks at him and struts into the house, David staring at the two of them with his mouth wide open. 

“What the fuck?” He says loudly. Stevie stops trying to hide her laughs, openly chuckling at David. 

“Looks like Alexis found her newest boy toy,” she says with a grin. 

“Okay first of all, _ew_ , second of all, what were you doing with my sister?” David asks.

Patrick smiles wide at David, beyond humored by his jealousy. “I was giving her a ride home, that’s all.”

“Yeah, no need to be jealous,” Stevie says echoing Alexis’ words.

David bristles even more. “I’m not _jealous,_ I just don’t appreciate how my sister is taking advantage of my boyfriend and demanding that he give her rides-”

Patrick doesn’t hear what else David has to say, the world swooping around him.

Stevie looks surprised before her face settles into a satisfied grin. 

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Patrick asks cutting off David’s rampage. 

David blinks at him. “I said I don’t like how Alexis is using you for transportation.”

“Who, me? Your _boyfriend_?” Patrick asks, smug grin on his face as he walks towards David. 

David’s mouth drops in surprise, before he’s pushing his arms in front of him trying to keep Patrick from getting any closer.

“Nope! I-I did not say _that_ , or maybe I _did_ , but like not like _that-”_

But Patrick just keeps walking forward, his grin widening with every step. 

_“David,”_ Patrick growls and David immediately shuts up.

“Please refrain from touching each other until I have pulled out of the driveway,” Stevie calls out as she quickly makes it back into her car, hastily pulling out of the driveway. 

Patrick continues walking towards David, needing to get his hands on him. 

“Okay, wait, listen _you-_ ”

But David doesn’t get another word in before Patrick is grabbing his wrist and pulling him forward, crashing their lips together. David struggles for about half a second before he surrenders to Patrick’s mouth, wrapping a hand around his neck. 

Patrick kisses him deeply, his chest bursting with happiness, heat spreading through his body quickly.

_Boyfriend. David is my boyfriend._

Patrick kisses David harder. When they finally pull apart, they’re breathing heavily, David looking dazed from their kisses. 

Patrick brings David’s right hand up to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, the rings cold against his face. 

“Hi boyfriend,” he says, smiling wide at David. David’s lips are pressed firmly together, but they quirk up defiantly. 

“You’re loving this aren’t you,” David mutters.

“You have no idea.”

“I’m so glad one of us is enjoying this,” David says, playfully rolling his eyes. 

Patrick kisses the side of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw, his chin, his neck, before placing a soft kiss on his lips. 

“I have to get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow,” Patrick murmurs between their lips before taking a step back. 

David’s arms chase him before falling to his sides. Patrick grins at him. 

David rolls his eyes again, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“Fine, meet you for lunch?”

“Can’t,” Patrick responds and David lifts an eyebrow at him. “I have a date with my boyfriend,” he says cheekily and David groans loudly. 

“Oh my fucking God.”

He turns around and starts walking to his front door, waving his hand, shooing Patrick away. 

Patrick sings Elvis Presley and smiles the entire way home. 

* * *

Patrick is especially giddy even after a rigorous day of practice. His body aches a little, but he can’t wipe the smile from his face as he thinks about David. 

_My boyfriend_. 

He’s changing out of his uniform when one of his teammates calls out his name. 

“Brewer! Heard you gave Alexis Rose a ride home last night!”

Patrick’s body freezes while the boys around his whistle. 

“Lucky dog! Tell us what happened!"

Patrick tenses up, but forces a smile on his face. “Nothing, we’re just friends.”

The guys all groan, bored with the lackluster response. 

“I’m sure something must have happened, right Brewer?"

Patrick turns his head and looks right at Brock, a wicked grin on his face. 

“A pretty girl like that, and you did nothing about it? She’s not a stranger when it comes to playing the field.”

Patrick balls his hand into a tight fist, anger spreading through his body like wildfire. 

“Don’t talk about Alexis like that, Brock,” Patrick says coldly, feeling very protective over Alexis, even though he knows Alexis is more than capable of fending off people like Brock. 

Brock raises his hands up in defense. “Just saying is all. Those Rose siblings are nice to look at.”

Patrick sneers at Brock, feeling his body trying to lunge at him when a hand clasps his shoulder. 

“Brock,” Sam says from behind him. “Coach wants to speak with you.”

Brock gives Patrick one more satisfied smirk before walking away. Patrick is shaking with anger, clenching and unclenching his fists. 

“Don’t let him get to you, Patrick,” Sam says gently. “He’s not worth it.”

Patrick huffs out one more harsh breath before storming out of the locker room.

* * *

David is sketching in his notebook when his phone lights up with Patrick’s name.

“Hey, how was sports rehearsal?” David asks.

“Fine,” Patrick says roughly and David’s eyebrows knit together in worry.

“Patrick, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just had a tough day at practice,” he replies quietly.

David closes his notebook and stands up from his desk. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I-I just needed to hear your voice.”

Fondness spreads through David’s chest despite feeling worried, feeling the need to make things okay. 

“Are you still up to hang out tomorrow after school?”

“Yeah, definitely. Do you still want me to bring pizza?” Patrick teases.

David is about to say yes when an idea enters his mind. 

“Uh, no! Actually I’ll get the pizza! No worries!”

“Okay?” Patrick replies confused.

“Do you feel better?” David asks.

“Yeah, a little,” he responds quietly. “Thank you David.”

David grins, satisfied with himself. 

“Do you want to hear about the time Stevie and I got trapped in one of the motel rooms trying to steal booze from one of the guests?”

Patrick barks out a laugh, a real laugh and David feels relieved. 

“I’d like that,” Patrick says softly.

So David tells him every embarrassing detail, glowing when Patrick laughs, making everything okay.

* * *

“Mm, I’ll follow you to your house,” Patrick says against David’s lips, rubbing his thumb in lazy circles into his waist. They’re back in the alcove around the corner of the art room after the final bell has rung, Patrick pulling David in to steal some kisses. 

“ _Actually_ , why don’t you drive your car back to your house and I pick you up?” David says running his hands over Patrick’s shoulders.

Patrick raises an eyebrow curiously at David. “Okay?”

“Great!” David pecks Patrick lightly one more time before stepping away from his embrace, Patrick’s arms instinctively chasing after David. “I just have to pick something up from my house. I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes!”

Patrick watches David walk away confused before shaking his head and making his way to his car. 

He feels significantly better from yesterday, David’s ridiculous story last night making him laugh and forget about Brock. 

Curious to see what David has planned, Patrick turns up his stereo, tapping his fingers to the beat and drives to his house.

* * *

“Close your eyes,” David says while he’s driving the both of them to their destination. 

“What?”

“Close your eyes! I want to surprise you,” David says biting his lip nervously. 

Patrick knits his eyebrows in confusion and closes his eyes reluctantly. David smiles, carefully driving his car towards Valley Hill Park. Every now and then he waves a hand in front of Patrick’s face to make sure they’re actually closed. 

He parks the car on the far side of the park, near a secluded area with trees. It’s not the same place they had their first date, that area teeming with people today. But David was able to scope out the area and found somewhere a little more private, knowing he wants to sneak a few kisses with Patrick. 

He gets out of the car and pops the trunk open to retrieve a picnic basket and blanket before going over to Patrick’s side and opening the door. 

“Can I open my eyes now?” Patrick asks.

“Nope,” David says, hooking the basket into his elbow and throwing the blanket over his shoulder. He takes Patrick’s hand in his and pulls him up and out of the car. Once he’s standing, still with his eyes closed, David quickly looks around to see if anyone can see them, and pecks Patrick gently on the lips. 

Patrick hums happily, leaning forward looking for another kiss, but David puts a finger against his lips pushing him away.

“Uh-uh, there’s more where that came from later.”

Patrick pouts and David can’t help but laugh and kiss him just one more time. 

He shifts Patrick so that he’s standing behind him and places his hands on his shoulders, guiding him forward. 

It’s awkward, especially because the ground is uneven, but they make it past the trees to a small clearing, the sun shining brightly above them. 

“Okay, just one more minute,” David says, laying down the blanket and picnic basket. He takes the food he’s prepared out and lays them down. 

Once he’s satisfied, he turns back to Patrick, who still has his eyes closed and David bites his lip nervously. 

“Okay, you can open your eyes.”

* * *

Patrick opens his eyes, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light after keeping them closed for so long. His eyes first focus in on David, as they normally always do whenever he’s within proximity, before they scan around and take in where they are.

Patrick had guessed they were in some park given the grassy walk from the car. But Patrick is surprised to see where David has led them, a beautiful clearing surrounded by trees with the sky framed up above them. 

He then notices something on the ground and his eyebrows raise up to his hairline when he sees a large blanket laid out with a picnic basket. There are what looks to be sandwiches, wrapped in aluminum foil and a couple of glass bottles of iced tea. 

David is biting his lip, shifting on his legs nervously when Patrick looks back up. 

“David?”

“I thought you might want a picnic instead of watching a movie at my house like we always do,” David blurts out. Patrick snaps his mouth shut and watches David. 

“You sounded so stressed yesterday, I figured a picnic might make you feel better, just like how you and your parents would when you were little. I brought fancy iced tea that we have flown in from Pennsylvania that is _to die for_ , and I made some sandwiches. I didn’t bring a ball to play catch with because you _really_ don’t want to watch me try and catch anything. Also this outfit isn’t designed for things like that.”

“You made sandwiches?”

“Yeah, peanut butter and jelly, like how your mom used to.”

“You set up a picnic, just to make me feel better?”

“Of course,” David says, blinking at him as if it were nothing. As if taking care of Patrick was the easiest thing in the world. 

Patrick feels the wind rush out of him, his mind reeling as the stress he’s been feeling releases from his body. 

Without a second thought, he steps around the blanket towards David and pulls him in for a desperate kiss. 

David wraps his arms around Patrick’s neck, kissing him back and Patrick wants to sob. 

“How do you do it?” Patrick asks when they pull apart for air. 

“What?” David asks breathlessly. 

“How do you always make things okay?”

David smirks smugly, playing with the hair on the back of Patrick’s head. 

“It’s a gift,” he says before kissing Patrick again.

* * *

They finish the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches David made them, the crusts clumsily cut off because according to David, _“No one eats the fucking crusts anyways.”_

They lay on the blanket together, looking up at the sky. Patrick is on his back, one arm behind his head, the other wrapped around David’s shoulder as he rests his head on Patrick’s chest, listening to the strong beat of Patrick’s heart. 

David is drawing lazy shapes into Patrick’s stomach with one finger, breathing steadily with his eyes closed. 

“When do you leave for New York?”

David stops drawing shapes and his eyes snap open. David doesn’t look at Patrick, afraid of what he might see. 

“The original plan was to leave at the end of June so that I got settled into my apartment,” David replies nervously. 

He feels Patrick rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder and David relaxes slightly. They’re both quiet, and David musters up the courage to tell Patrick the plan he’s been thinking of in the past few weeks.

“But, I’m thinking of staying here until the end of August instead.”

Patrick stops rubbing David’s shoulder and tightens his grip instead. 

“Really?”

David nods against his chest before lifting his head and turning to look Patrick in his eyes. 

“Why would you do that?” Patrick asks, running his finger against David’s cheek. 

“Well,” David says clearing his throat. “There’s someone I’m not quite ready to leave yet.” Heat rushes up David’s face as he watches a smug grin bloom on Patrick’s face. 

“Oh? A secret boyfriend?”

David rolls his eyes. “Actually he can be a pain in the ass sometimes. Overly confident some might say.”

“Mm, he sounds like a keeper,” Patrick says grinning deeper.

“Okay, I take that back-” David says starting to sit up properly. But Patrick tightens his grip around David’s shoulder and brings him back down. He rolls them over, David yelping in surprise, until Patrick is on top of him, pinning him down with his weight. 

“Stay,” Patrick says looking into David’s eyes. 

David’s eyes widen in surprise, tensing up. Patrick stares down at him, one side of his mouth quirked up, his eyes shining brightly. 

The world is quiet around them except for David’s heart beating wildly in his chest, David taking in Patrick’s face above him, eternalizing every detail in this moment. Because something blossoms in David’s chest, a realization he’s never had before. 

_How does he do it_ , David asks. _How does he know me like this?_

Because as much as David wants someone to stay, he's also wanted someone who asks him to stay as well. _Wants_ him to stay. 

_You’re going to fight for this aren’t you? You’re going to fight for me?_

David lifts his hand up to trace Patrick's face and his heart squeezes when Patrick closes his eyes and leans into his touch. 

_I’ll fight too._

“Okay,” David whispers. Patrick smiles down at him, brighter than the sun above them, and kisses David sweetly.

_For you, anything._

* * *

It’s the week before prom when Patrick is reminded that David won’t be there.

They’re hanging out in David’s bedroom, Patrick on the floor working on his English homework and David writing in his notebook on his bed when he gets a text message from his prom group about ironing out the details. 

Patrick feels his heart drop as the messages poor in, the sound of his phone taking up the room.

“Someone’s popular,” David teases. “What’s the emergency?”

“It’s, um stuff for…prom,” Patrick says hesitantly. He looks up from his spot on the floor towards David, worried about upsetting him. 

But David smiles back at him softly, “Last minute details?”

“Yeah, a few things.” Patrick fiddles with his hands, unsure of what to say. 

“You’ll have a good time."

Patrick sighs, running his hands through his hair. “Not if you’re not there.”

David shakes his head and puts his hand out towards Patrick. Patrick immediately reaches for it and joins David on his bed, sitting next to him. 

“Go to prom,” David says clasping their hands together. “Give yourself one more good memory of high school. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“What will you be doing?” Patrick asks, playing with the rings on David’s fingers.

“I’ll be here, waiting to hear all about it. I also desperately need to go through all my knits.”

Patrick smiles weakly and knows he shouldn’t push, but can’t help himself from asking one more time.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

David nods his head. “I’m sure. Big, lavish parties are very common in my life. I’ve gone to enough of them to last me a lifetime. Besides, the last party I went to featured acrobats doing a routine sung live by Barbara Streisand. Our high school prom won’t live up to my expectations after that.”

Patrick smiles and raises David’s hand to kiss his knuckles. 

“I’ll save a dance for you,” Patrick says. David blushes and Patrick leans in to brush his lips against David’s, prom, homework and the world already forgotten. 

* * *

Patrick’s mom insists on taking more pictures than are humanly possible on the day of prom. She keeps adjusting his tie, straightening out the lapels of his suit, and Patrick lets her because it means a lot to her. His dad stands back and watches his wife with a grin, hands on his hips. 

His prom group mutually agreed to not have dates, choosing to go as one big group of friends instead. For Patrick it’s a relief, not wanting to have brought anyone except David anyways. He can’t imagine pretending to have fun with someone else knowing David was home by himself. 

But David told him to have fun, sending him a message right before they left for the venue. 

_Have fun. Don’t dance with anyone that’s more attractive than me._

Patrick chuckled at the message, both at David’s humor and the fact that for Patrick, there is no one that exists that is more attractive than David. 

So Patrick puts his best foot forward, laughing with his friends and trying his hardest to enjoy his time. 

But every detail about the night keeps bringing his mind back to David. 

_David would love these mini sliders. Maybe I should steal some to bring back to him?_

_Those centerpieces are definitely incorrect, I think. I should take a picture and ask David._

_They haven’t played a single Mariah Carey song._

Patrick is standing off to the side with a drink in his hand when a familiar song starts playing, the voice of Elvis Presley filling the room. The lights dim as Patrick sways to the music. It’s romantic, fairy lights twinkling above him, the room quieting down as everyone partners up. Patrick leans back against the wall and watches everyone, and imagines himself in the middle of the dance floor with David wrapped in his arms. 

_“Wise men say, only fool rush in. But I can’t help, falling in love with you.”_

What would it have been like to be here with him? To show off to everyone in the room David Rose chose _me._ To be so brave?

What Patrick would give to be more brave. 

The music shifts to something more upbeat, the noise of the crowd swelling up again. He watches his friends dancing, young and free and knows David is right. This is important. These tiny moments to look back on. Prom will always be one of those nights. But he doesn’t want to see it without David. 

Patrick puts his drink down and makes his way to his car, shooting a text in the group message saying he had to duck out of there early. 

He drives to David’s house and blasts the stereo, drumming his hands against the steering wheel. Elvis croons, but Patrick wants to hear something that reminds him of David. He flips through the playlist on his phone, skipping song after song, none of them distinctly David. 

But then the sweet melody of hearts being on fire swells inside of him and Patrick drives just a little bit faster. 

* * *

David is organizing his knits when his phone pings. He looks down at it nonchalantly, unconcerned for who it is, until he realizes it’s Patrick. 

He grabs his phone and quickly opens the message. 

_Are you busy?_

David bites his lip and looks around at the piles of clothes. His knits can wait. 

_Not really, why?_

_Come outside._

David’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He looks at the clock and it reads back 8:34, only an hour and a half since prom began. 

He gets up from the floor and walks out of his room. No one is home except him and the staff, his parents off the dinner with an important business client of his dad’s and Alexis off somewhere with her friends causing some kind of mischief. 

David opens the large front door and pokes his head out. He sees Patrick leaning up against his car, dressed in a black suit, his tie undone and around his neck. His hair is a little messy, his shirt untucked from his pants, and his hands are shoved deep into his pockets. He’s the most handsome boy David has ever seen.

He smiles and David loses his breath. 

Patrick pushes up from the car and walks towards David. 

“Hi.”

“Hi, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you obviously. But there’s still two more hours of prom,” David says, his eyebrows knitting together. He walks down the steps to meet Patrick, standing in the middle of the walkway leading up to the front door. 

“I know,” Patrick says, putting his arms around David’s waist when he’s close enough and pulling him in. “I had punch, took a bunch of pictures, and ate mini sliders. I think I’ve fulfilled my prom experience enough.”

David grins, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s neck. “Hm, Julia Stiles will be very proud. Did you have a nice time?”

“I did, but I missed my boyfriend. And I do remember saving a dance for him,” Patrick says, gently swaying them back and forth. Patrick kisses David’s neck, nuzzling his face into his soft sweater. 

“Ah, I might also recall such a thing,” David teases back, following Patrick’s lead. 

They sway together, wrapped in each others arms, the sounds of the night as their music. The crickets are chirping from the bushes and a steady breeze makes the trees dance with them. David closes his eyes and leans his head into Patrick’s shoulder.

And then Patrick starts singing softly in his ear. 

_“I call you when I need you, my heart is on fire.”_

David’s breath hitches, his eyes opening at the familiar tune washing over his body.

_“You come to me, come to me wild and wired.”_

David squeezes his eyes shut, his eyes stinging with tears. 

_“Oh, you come to me, give me everything I need.”_

David nuzzles his head into Patrick’s neck, his heart beating harshly against his chest as he listen to Patrick sing to him. 

David didn’t think he could ever find something to make him stay. But as Patrick gathers him in his strong arms, keeping years of demons away, David doesn’t think he would want to be anywhere else but here. 

It frightens him, knowing that a brown-eyed, button faced boy could make him feel so safe and wanted. But David lets himself fall, the nugget inside of him whispering everything he’s ever wanted. 

_You see me. All of me. Please stay._

He feels something forming in his chest, pushing down into him, making him breathless. They’re words, trying to take shape so that they can come out. But David can’t make out what they are, unfamiliar and foreign. They continue to push, but they have nowhere to go yet. So David files it away for another day, choosing to just focus on Patrick right now.

And so they dance together in David’s front lawn, the moon as their spotlight, Patrick’s voice tickling against his ear. 

_“Oh, you’re the best.”_

* * *

“You look too happy,” Stevie grumbles from behind her desk at the motel, a large pair of black sunglasses adorning her face. Schitt’s Creek also had their prom the night before, Stevie getting incredibly drunk on peppermint schnapps with her date and thus feeling the consequences now, the morning after. 

“Hm?” David hums from his seat on the couch, smiling at the picture he took of himself and Patrick the night before.

“Gross, is this what it looks like when you’re in love?”

David snaps his head up and shouts, “I’m not in love!”

Stevie groans and covers her ears. “Stop shouting!”

“I wouldn’t be shouting if you weren’t saying such _ridiculous_ things!”

“You’ve had a stupid look on your face all morning David, clearly you’re in love,” Stevie says rubbing her temple. 

David blinks at her, his mind absorbing her words. 

_Love?_

The word is foreign to David, unfamiliar and strange. He’s only ever used the word twice in his life. Once to Alexis when he was finally able to track her down after going missing in Poland and the other to his parents when they agreed to send him to New York if he got into art school. He might have also yelled it during a Mariah Carey concert during an incredibly emotional performance of “Butterfly”. 

As the word continues to settle into David’s body, the strange sensation he felt in his heart last night begins to form again, taking shape, more defined and concrete. 

But before it can finish developing, David quickly pushes it away, fear in his body spiking up. 

_Don’t. Don’t let it._

Stevie is dozing off, her head leaning against her palm, completely unaware of David and the panic that is shown clearly on his face. 

He takes a shuddering breath, willing his heart to slow down, for the first time thinking of anything except for Patrick. 

* * *

Patrick is helping his dad fix a wall on their shed the next day, holding up a bucket of nails for him. 

“You have fun last night?” His dad asks, carefully hammering a nail down into the wood. 

“Yeah, it was great,” Patrick replies offhandedly. 

“Good, I’m glad. So listen, your mom and I were talking about the Spring Carnival next week-”

“What?” Patrick says surprised, almost dropping the bucket of nails.

“Woah, easy there Patrick,” his dad says chuckling. 

“Sorry,” Patrick mutters, his hands shaking a little bit.

“We were talking about the carnival next Saturday and we’re not going to help your aunt with her booth this year. She said your cousins are old enough to work the station with her so we’re free to enjoy it this year.”

Patrick swallows hard. “That’s great, dad.”

Patrick’s mind is racing, his heart beating painfully against his chest. 

He’d forgotten about the bet. And the carnival. The carnival that happened to be a week away. The carnival where he would have to kiss David to win his bet against Brock. 

_Fuck._

Patrick’s palms start to get sweaty and he puts the bucket down on the ground to wipe his hands against his pants. 

Patrick had been riding on bliss being with David that he completely forgot about his deal with Brock coming to an end soon. 

He did it, didn’t he? David was his boyfriend. All he had to do was kiss him, in front of everyone, in front of his parents. 

Patrick had slowly been making his way towards telling his parents, gathering up the courage to do so and solidified by the picnic David planned for him just because he was feeling stressed.

He wants them to know. He wants them to know David.

He could do it now. He could tell his dad now.

If he told them now, he could kiss David at the carnival and beat Brock. It would solve his problem. 

_But that’s not the only problem, is it?_

No, telling his parents wasn’t the only problem. It was the guilt. The guilt of knowing that he’s using David to get back at Brock. Using him to hurt someone. David Rose, who has been hurt by so many people, weaponized for a selfish game he and Brock came up with. 

David Rose who deserves so much better. 

_Lose._

Patrick blinks.

_Lose the bet._

Lose the bet? Losing the bet would mean losing his spot on the team. Baseball is important to him, he worked hard to get where he is. He earned his spot. Losing would mean giving it to Brock who didn’t deserve it. 

_But you get to have David._

But baseball also means so much to his family, to his dad. He looks so proud during every game he’s at, his parents the loudest whenever he stepped up to bat or caught a ball. 

_They love you._

Patrick swallows hard, knowing deep in his soul that those words were true. They loved baseball because they loved him. 

_Lose the bet, keep David._

“Patrick, hand me another nail.” Patrick snaps out of his thoughts and reaches down to get another nail for his dad. 

“Dad?” He says as he hands one to him. “What would you think if I quit baseball?”

His dad pauses his movements and turns to Patrick curiously. “Why would you do that, son?”

Patrick nervously shrugs his shoulders. “Just a thought.”

“Brewers don’t quit, Patrick. Not without good reason.”

“What if I had a good reason?”

His dad watches him carefully, Patrick squirming slightly under his gaze. 

“Well, that’s up for you to decide. You need to trust your gut.”

“Okay,” Patrick says softly. 

His dad continues to look at him, asking, “Is there something you want to talk about?”

_Yes._

“No.”

“Okay, well, you know you can come and talk to your mother and I right? About anything?”

“Yeah, I know,” Patrick nods, a small smile on his face. 

“Good. Okay,” he says standing up brushing his hands on his pants. “How about we go inside for a bit. Your mom made lemonade this morning.”

“Yeah, okay.” They begin to walk back to the house, walking side by side. 

“Dad?” 

“Yeah son?”

Patrick squeezes his hands tightly, shoulders tense. 

_Dad, I’m gay._

“Thanks for the talk.”

His dad claps a hand on his shoulder warmly. “Anytime, Patrick."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some angst and some fluff and some mild violence!
> 
> The story is 95% done! Just one more chapter to write. I'd like to thank everyone for their beautiful comments. They have been a source of light during a very dreary December. Happy holidays my friends!

“Are you and Patrick going to the Spring Carnival?” Stevie asks eating her ice cream. 

“I don’t think so, too public,” David replies taking a bite of his own. He would never admit it out loud, but a tiny part of David desperately wants to go to the carnival. 

They’re sitting on a bench outside of the fancy ice cream parlor in Elm Valley after school on Monday, a very warm day in May. 

“Have you asked him?”

“No."

“Maybe he wants to go.”

“I kind of just assumed he didn’t because we’re still keeping things private."

“Still hasn’t told his parents?”

“No, and I’m not going to rush him about it.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“Hm.”

They’re both quiet, eating their ice cream, watching people walk by. 

“You really like him.”

The corner of David’s mouth quirks up, trying to hide behind his ice cream. 

“A little,” David replies clearing his throat looking around. 

“Hm.”

Silence. 

“Just like?”

“Okay,” David says turning towards Stevie. “Where are you trying to go with this?”

“Nowhere,” Stevie replies with a blank face. 

David huffs and finishes off his ice cream, throwing away his cup in the trash can next to him. 

“I’m happy for you.”

David turns back to her and she’s looking at him with the same blank face until her mouth quirks up just the tiniest bit. 

“Thanks,” David says quietly, looking away. Stevie then grins at him, taking another bite of her ice cream. 

“I hate that we’ve had this interaction,” David says before snatching Stevie’s ice cream from her hand. “I’m eating this.”

Stevie shrugs her shoulders and sits back, a satisfied smirk on her face. 

* * *

Patrick is taking books out of his locker when Brock appears in front of him, leaning against the locker next to Patrick’s. 

“Brewer,” he says with a grin.

“What do you want Brock,” Patrick asks tiredly. 

“Just checking in buddy, only a couple of days left,” he replies. “We should work out the kinks.”

“What are you talking about?” Patrick asks feeling exasperated. 

“We need a plan, Brewer. Work out the fine lines of our contract.”

“I’m not doing this with you right now,” Patrick says slamming his locker shut. 

“So you forfeit?”

Patrick stops walking, stiffening up. He had been wrestling with the idea of losing the bet, stopping this from going any further and just being with David. 

The season was half over, he loved the games, he loved the teamwork, he loved the rush. 

He loved baseball, it was his entire world during high school. Until David. 

_Lose the bet. Keep David._

Patrick is about to do just that when Brock says, “You probably weren’t able to seal the deal. Surprising given the fact that Rose will drop down to his knees for just about anyone-”

The sound rushes from Patrick’s ears and before he knows it, he has Brock pinned up against the locker, holding Brock by his shirt in tight fists. 

“What the fuck Brewer-”

“Watch your fucking mouth Brock,” Patrick says quietly, breathing harshly through his nose. 

“Let go of me!”

But Patrick holds on tighter, pushing Brock harder into the locker behind him, months of torment seeping out of his body. He can’t hear anything, all the noise sounding distant. It isn’t until someone puts a hand on his shoulder that makes Patrick come back down to earth, his fists still tightly clenched into Brock’s shirt. 

“Let go, Patrick,” A voice says from behind him. But Patrick can’t, staring at Brock while the anger courses through his blood. 

“Patrick, now.” The voice behind him tightens their hold on his shoulder, pulling him away from Brock. His hands immediately drop, Brock pushing him away and rubbing his shoulders. 

Patrick comes to, noticing a small crowd has gathered around them, Sam next to him. 

“Go bother someone else,” Sam says to the crowd and they immediately disperse. 

“Fuck you, Brewer,” Brock says venomously. 

“Shut up, Brock. You probably said something to deserve that,” Sam says. 

Brock’s face scrunches up in frustration before he storms away, fists clenched at his sides. 

Patrick is still slightly dazed, ashamed at himself for losing control like that. His hands are shaking, his breath coming out unevenly. 

“Patrick,” Sam says placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “Go home.”

Patrick’s eyes snap towards Sam. “But practice-”

“Go home. You’re not fit to be at practice today.” 

Patrick closes his eyes when they begin to sting with tears. 

“Skip the rest of your classes and go home.”

Patrick nods his head with his eyes still closed, trying to force his heart to calm down. 

He grabs his backpack from the ground and turns to Sam. “Thanks. For stopping me. I don’t think I could have on my own.”

Sam nods his head. “I get it. Brock is an asshole. But don’t let him get to you, it’s not worth it."

Patrick lets out a harsh breath and nods. He walks the other way towards the parking lot, clutching onto his backpack as his footstep echo in the empty halls. 

He sends a message to David, telling him he won’t be in art class today. 

* * *

David is settling into his trigonometry class when he gets a message from Patrick.

_Hey, I’m heading home early today. I don’t feel too well. Call you tonight?_

David immediately becomes worried, glancing towards his teacher to make sure they’re not looking before replying to Patrick. 

_Everything okay? Are you feeling sick?_

It’s a minute before Patrick responds. 

_No, just stressed about something. I’ll tell you soon. I promise._

David bites his lip and puts his phone away. He looks at the blackboard, trying to make sense of what he sees, but all he can think about is Patrick. 

He’s been acting strangely lately, slightly skittish and nervous about something. David thinks it has something to do with Patrick wanting to tell his parents which is why David has been extra careful to show Patrick that he does understand him wanting to take his time. 

Now David is consumed by the idea that he’s the one causing Patrick’s stress, panic spreading through his body quickly. 

He excuses himself to go to the bathroom, nearly running there and locking himself in the last stall. 

_What if he leaves me? What if I pushed him away?_

David has tried so hard not to push Patrick away, having done it to so many people. But even though he’s tried not to, maybe he did it anyway, subconsciously keeping his walls up, banishing anyone who tries to come near him. 

“ _Because I can really see myself liking him for a long time and I don’t how I’ll be able to put myself back together when he leaves.”_

David sits down on the toilet and hangs his head between his knees, forcing himself to take deep breaths, feeling the walls closing in around him. 

The room is spinning, his hands shaking so he puts them on his knees for support. The blood rushes to his head, sound disappearing except for the rapid beating of his heart. 

_“I like you a lot, David”_

Patrick said that when they first started dating. He said it so honestly that David kept those words in his chest for days afterwards, always coming back to them. 

David believed him, believed him so fiercely that he felt safe enough to show Patrick his soul, just a little bit so that he knew David liked him too. 

David feels his body start the itch, the anxiety clawing at his skin, the voice inside of him telling him to _run, run away and protect yourself._

He feels his body want to push forward, but his feet don’t move, because running away would mean running away from Patrick. And David thinks he could never run away from Patrick. 

_Go. Go see him. Fight for this._

David feels rush fading away, the panic subsiding a little as he sits upright. His forehead is dotted with sweat so he takes some toilet paper and dabs it away, his hands still shaking.

He leaves the stalls, washes his hands with cold water, looking at his reflection. His cheeks are red, his eyes are bloodshot, and his hair is tousled. 

David squares his shoulders and walks out of the bathroom, back to his trigonometry class.

He sits back in his seat for a moment before raising his hand. 

“Can I go to the nurse’s office? I don’t feel well.”

* * *

Patrick is laying on his couch, tossing a baseball in the air with the television on, volume set on low. 

He’s been laying there for the last thirty minutes, thinking about Brock, the bet, and David. 

His parents are out of the house thankfully, Patrick not wanting to explain to them why he’s decided the skip out on his last two classes. 

He’s thinking of David when the doorbell rings. Patrick puts the baseball down and stands up, walking to the door in confusion. 

When he opens it, David is standing there, tugging on his sleeves, looking at him nervously. 

“David,” Patrick breathes out. 

“S-sorry, I know you wanted to talk tonight, but I got really worried and just wanted to check up on you-”

David doesn’t finish before Patrick is pulling David into his arms, wrapping him in a tight embrace, pressing his face into his neck. 

David’s arms immediately wrap around him, pulling him in closer and Patrick feels himself really breathing for the first time today. 

“Rough day?” David mumbles into Patrick's head. 

Patrick nods against David’s neck, placing a kiss there before pulling back to look at him. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, brushing a hair that fell on David’s face. “You have no idea how glad I am that you’re here.”

David shakes his head and kisses Patrick sweetly.

“How are you here?” Patrick asks, guiding David into his house and shutting the door behind them. 

“Told the nurse I vomited. He let me go home early,” David says cheekily. 

Patrick laughs, leading them to his living room, pulling David down to sit with him on the couch. 

“Should I feel guilty? I feel like I made you skip class,” Patrick says rubbing David’s shoulder.

“I wanted to see you,” David says kissing Patrick. “I also just did not want to be in trig today.” 

Patrick shakes his head with a grin and pulls David in for another kiss. “Thank you for being here,” he murmurs between their lips. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” David asks rubbing Patrick’s back. 

Patrick shakes his head, not wanting to talk about Brock let alone reveal the cause of his stress. 

“I’ve just been stressed about school, graduation and stuff,” Patrick mutters, not completely lying. 

“Graduation,” David repeats. 

Patrick swallows thickly as he’s reminded of an entirely different conversation he’s been having with himself the last few weeks. A conversation about the state of their relationship after graduation. After David leaves for New York. 

His mind pauses on his thoughts about Brock and focuses on David instead. David and the future. It’s a terrifying thing to think about, so many unknown factors crowding his mind. But one thing Patrick knows for certain is that he wants David there. And he wants David to know that. 

Patrick pulls away from David slightly so that he can look at him in his eyes, showing David what he wants and hoping David wants the same thing. 

“You’re leaving in August,” Patrick says softly reaching for David’s hands. “I’ll be here.”

David looks aways, nodding his head stiffly. Patrick is afraid, but he musters up whatever courage he has inside of him. 

“I want this, David. I want this for as long as we can have it. If you’ll have me.” His heart is beating wildly and he feels nervous, terrified that David’s answer won’t be what he’s hoping for. 

_Want me. Please, want me._

But David’s eyes snap towards him, relief pouring out of him and Patrick loses his breath. 

“Yes,” David breathes out. “Yes, I want that too. I want you.”

Patrick smiles in relief, pulling David in for a searing kiss. David smiles into it, his hand wrapping around Patrick’s neck, deepening it, his mouth opening for Patrick. 

“We can make this work,” Patrick says in between kisses, David pressing his lips all over Patrick’s face. “We can call every night, I’ll come visit whenever I can, you can come home-”

“Mmph, yes, I’ll come home. I’ll come home to you.”

They’re falling deeper, and deeper, until Patrick is pushing David into the couch, pressing his body down with his own, the heat between them growing. 

Patrick’s hands run desperately around David’s body, needing to feel him, needing to know that he’s there.

David’s hands raked through Patrick’s hair, dragging his nails making Patrick moan loudly.

David pulls away from the kiss, latching onto Patrick’s neck, teasing the skin with his tongue, Patrick losing his mind. 

Before they can go any further, Patrick pushes David away gently. “Upstairs,” Patrick croaks out. They’re scrambling off the couch, Patrick dragging David up the stairs to his room. 

Once they’re in Patrick’s room, Patrick pushes David against the door, kissing him hard and desperate, David clawing at his back. 

Patrick pulls David with him, their lips still connected, moving backwards until his legs hit the bed, pulling David down with him. David straddles Patrick’s hips, his weight pushing Patrick down onto the bed, Patrick’s hips jerking upward towards David’s. 

Patrick feels tingles run down his body when David pushes his hands underneath Patrick’s shirt, teasing his hands against his naked skin. David disconnects their lips and Patrick is about to complain when David is raising his hands, taking his sweater and t-shirt off and throwing it off, sitting on top of Patrick shirtless and beautiful. 

Patrick’s jaw goes slack as he takes David in, his hands roaming up his chest unable to stop himself from touching him. Patrick sits up, wrapping an arm around David’s waist, Davids arms coming around Patrick’s neck, David looking down at Patrick, his pupils wide, breathing ragged. 

Something shifts between them, both realizing where they are and what they are about to do, the energy heavy and charged. David moves his hands down Patrick’s chest, raking his nails against his shirt until his hands are teasing the hem. 

“Can I?” David whispers. 

Patrick nods, and David is pulling his shirt off, gently placing it on the floor next to the bed. 

David’s arms come back up to Patrick’s shoulders, rubbing them gently with his hands, Patrick shivering from beneath him. 

“Too fast?” David asks, biting his lip. 

Patrick shakes his head and surges up, kissing David again, heat spreading through his belly. David’s hands card through Patrick’s hair, gently coaxing his tongue deeper into his mouth. 

He feels panic spreading through his body, not for what he and David are doing, but panic about the possibility of losing this, losing David. Patrick doesn't know how he’ll be able to fix himself if David ever leaves him, the thought making his blood run cold. 

But then David’s hand is wrapping around his neck, rubbing his thumb against Patrick’s pulse point bringing him back to life. 

Patrick feels the tension from the day seep out of his skin, replaced by a glow that only David can bring. Patrick grabs onto it desperately, not wanting to let go, never wanting to let go. 

Patrick feels himself falling backwards, his hands running up David’s naked back trying to pull him closer. His fingers skim the top of David’s pants, playing with the button. 

David pulls away and looks into Patrick’s eyes, warm and kind. Patrick feels his eyes sting with tears, raising a hand to cup David’s cheek. 

_Stay. Always stay._

David nods his head and Patrick’s hand goes back to the button of David’s pants, undoing them and pulling the zipper down, hands shaking. 

But David is there to kiss the fear away, David who makes everything okay. 

And together they fall. 

It was awkward and fast, but it was perfect. 

* * *

They’re laying in Patrick’s bed facing each other on their sides. They put their shirts and underwear back on, talking and laughing, happy and content. 

David knew Patrick was nervous, but David could argue he felt worse. He felt pressure to make sure it felt good for Patrick, that he felt safe and comfortable. 

David’s hands shook when he took Patrick’s pants off, until Patrick put his hands on David’s reassuring him that he wanted this too.

He’s been intimate with so many people because David felt like that was all he had to give. His body was something he knew he could use to get people to stay. And it worked for a little bit, until they grew tired of him, as they always did. 

And David was terrified Patrick would do the same. But Patrick lays next to him, his hand lazily raking through David’s hair, looking at him like he hung the moon and David doesn’t think that anymore.

_Want me. Please want me._

“I didn’t know,” Patrick says suddenly. 

“Didn’t know what?”

“That it could be like that,” Patrick says blushing. 

David grins, warmed by Patrick’s words. David wants to show Patrick everything, help him find what’s been missing. And maybe give David the chance to discover it too. 

“Mm and we’ve only just scratched the surface,” David says lowly, crawling down the bed, settling himself on his knees, hands grazing Patrick’s waist. 

“Holy shit,” Patrick whispers as he watches David move, his eyes wide.

David is about to pull Patrick’s boxers down when they suddenly hear the front door slam closed.

“Patrick?” They hear his mother call out. They both freeze on the bed before springing up, reaching for their discarded clothing. 

“Holy _fuck_ ,” David whispers urgently, quickly pulling his pants up.

“Shit, I didn’t notice the time!” Patrick whispers back, pulling his shirt on. 

“Where’s my sweater?” David asks, frantically looking around the room. 

“I think you chucked it over there.”

“Okay, I didn’t _chuck_ anything, especially an Alexander McQueen sweater. I was raised better than that.”

“ _David!_ ” 

“Okay, okay!” David finds his sweater and shirt and pulls it on quickly, but not before making sure there were no wrinkles or creases. 

David is smoothing out his sweater when there’s a knock on the door, Patrick’s mom poking her head in.

“Hi sweetheart, I’m making dinner now-oh! David, I’m sorry I didn’t know you were coming over,” she says warmly. 

“We were just doing some homework,” Patrick blurts out with no tact and David closes his eyes in pain. 

_He’s terrible under pressure._

“Of course dear. Well David, you’re more than welcome to join us for dinner. I’m making spaghetti.”

“Oh, that’s fine Mrs. Brewer I should really be heading home-”

“He’ll stay,” Patrick says cutting him off. 

Mrs. Brewer smiles widely. “Great! I’ll set up an extra plate!” She turns around leaving the door open. “Dinner should be ready in thirty minutes boys!”

Once she’s safely out of earshot, David turns to Patrick quickly.

“What are you thinking! I can’t have dinner with your parents!”

“Why not?” Patrick asks calmly.

David sputters, not able to form coherent sentences. “B-because! Because they don’t _know_!”

“David,” Patrick says walking up to David, placing his hands on his waist like he always does. “I plan on telling my parents very soon. And I think it’s important that they get to know you.”

David’s lips are pressed into a hard line, and he looks away from Patrick feeling overwhelmed. 

But Patrick turns his face towards him, kissing him gently on the lips, David immediately relaxing. “I want them to know you.”

David huffs and reluctantly nods his head. “Fine, but I still think this is a horrible idea.”

“Noted,” Patrick says with a grin. 

David squeezes his eyes shut before looking down at Patrick with a crooked grin. 

“I can’t believe your mom almost walked in on me giving you a blow job,” he mutters. 

Patrick’s eyes grow wide before he bursts out laughing. David laughs too, unable to keep it in. 

“One day we’ll have a place of our own,” Patrick says kissing his cheek. He drops his hands from David’s waist and turns to leave the room. 

“I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna run to the bathroom.” He leaves and David is alone in his room. 

He doesn’t move, Patrick’s words on a loop in his head. 

_One day we’ll have a place of our own._

If anyone else had said that, David would be out of there in a heartbeat, too overwhelmed and too scared to accept that someone was thinking that far into the future with him. 

But as David waits for the panic to consume him, he realizes that it’s not coming. 

_Huh._

* * *

“And he wouldn’t leave unless we put the fish back into the river,” Clint Brewer says with a deep laugh. 

The four of them are gathered around the dinner table, Patrick’s parents sharing stories from his childhood. David’s cheeks are bright pink from laughing so much, delighted to be given a look into his boyfriend’s younger years.

“We kept telling him the point of fishing was to take what you caught back home with you, but he refused to accept that, saying the fishes had homes too,” Marcy says, eyes bright with fondness. 

“I was only five,” Patrick mutters from behind his glass. 

“An environmentalist,” David teases. 

“Oh! And you have to hear about the time Patrick lost his pants at the park-”

“Okay, I think David has enough embarrassing stories of me in his arsenal now,” Patrick says quickly. 

“No, this sounds like something I _definitely_ need to hear,” David replies.

“Well, how about I get us some ice cream first? I think we worked up an appetite for some dessert,” Marcy says standing up gathering the plates. 

David’s eyes light up at the mention of ice cream. “Let me help you that Mrs. Brewer.”

“Only if you call me Marcy,” she replies with a wink. David blushes and follows her into the kitchen.

“Why don’t you boys finish cleaning up the table while David and I get the ice cream?” She says to Clint and Patrick. 

“Sure thing honey,” he says, standing up and kissing her cheek as he walks by. 

David stands alone in the kitchen with Marcy, helping her grab four little bowls and a pint of chocolate ice cream from the freezer. 

“Thank you for helping me David,” she says as she looks for spoons in the drawers. 

“Thank you for letting me stay for dinner,” David replies, putting small scoops into the bowls. 

“Of course, dear.” They’re both quiet, working together silently. 

“You know,” Marcy says suddenly. “I feel as though I have to thank you for something else too.”

David stops scooping, turning towards her curiously. “For what?”

Marcy smiles softly to herself. “I think your friendship with Patrick has helped him through something. We’ve noticed a difference in Patrick lately. He seems happier. He’s been laughing a lot more too. Not that Patrick was never a happy person. But he seems more relaxed now than he’s been in a very long time.”

David swallows hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult. “I’m happy to hear that. He’s um,” he says clearing his throat. “He’s helped me a lot, too.”

“Has he?” Marcy asks with a smile.

“Yeah, I um, don’t really have many friends? Except for one, but she lives in Schitt’s Creek so I’ve been on my own for all of high school. Until Patrick. He, uh, really helped me survive these last few months,” David says, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

But Marcy smile widens, and she pats David’s hand reassuringly. 

“It seems you both needed each other,” she says softly to herself, so softly that David barely catches it.

“Table’s cleared, mom,” Patrick says from the doorway of the kitchen. 

“Great! Let’s eat this ice cream before it all melts away, shall we?” She places a reassuring hand on David’s shoulder as she walks by holding two bowls in her hands. 

David stays in the kitchen for just a second longer before he follows her out. 

* * *

“I shouldn’t have had that second helping of ice cream,” David says as he and Patrick walk to his car. 

“You earned it,” Patrick says fondly. “They really like you.”

David’s face perks up before looking away shyly. “You think?”

“Oh absolutely. Mom was way too excited to show you my baby pictures,” Patrick says with a grimace. “And dad was genuinely interested in hearing you talk about art. You really impressed them, David.”

David preens, closing his eyes and tilting his head up. “They made it easy. To talk to them. I wasn’t as scared as I thought I would be.”

“I’m glad,” Patrick says softly. 

“It’ll also helped hearing all those stories about you when you were little. Definitely helped take the edge off,” David says jokingly and Patrick laughs. 

They reach David’s car, parked on the dark street with the dim glow of the street lamp above them. 

Patrick stares at David’s face, a small smile on his lips, David smiling back at him. Patrick reaches his hand out and traces David’s cheekbone with his fingers. 

“How on earth did I find you, David Rose,” he whispers to himself in awe. 

David blushes beautifully, looking away, his dark lashes fanning against his face. Patrick steps forward and kisses David softly, goosebumps rising over his skin. 

_Let it always be like this. Please._

* * *

“It looks like vomit,” David says deadpanned looking over Patrick’s latest painting. Patrick’s assignment was a fantasy landscape and he opted to paint a hideous ocean view with various mythical beasts dressed in sports attire. David really didn’t need the image of the Loch Ness monster wearing a basketball jersey in his head, but here it was. 

“Okay, it’s not _that_ bad,” Patrick replies defensively. 

“You asked for my opinion.”

“And if you were a good boyfriend you would lie.”

“If I recall correctly, you were telling me how good I was during lunch in your car when I did the thing with my-”

“ _David_ ,” Patrick says sharply, looking around to see if anyone heard them. 

“What?” He asks innocently and Patrick pinches his thigh. 

David tries to come up with a snarky comment, but Patrick is pressing his lips together tightly and David feels his own grin creeping up before they both burst out laughing, the other students in the art room turning their heads to look at them. 

“Gentlemen?” Ms. Moore says from the other side. 

“Sorry,” Patrick calls out, a grin still on his face. 

David ducks behind his blank canvas, snickering to himself when he feels Patrick grab his hand. His eyes are crinkled and he’s smiling so openly that David squeezes his hand, gently stroking his thumb across Patrick’s knuckles before he lets go. 

“So,” Patrick says as he reaches for a brush. “What’s the next David Rose masterpiece?”

David blinks at him before turning to his blank canvas. 

“I don’t know,” David answers. Truth be told, art has been the last thing on David’s mind lately. More focused on spending time thinking of Patrick instead. And since he was admitted into art school, David didn’t need to use his free period in the art room anymore. Not that he would ever want to stop. Patrick was here and that was more than enough for David to come back. 

“Well, whatever it is, it’ll be beautiful,” Patrick says with a grin. “Maybe it’ll be good enough to hang on my bedroom wall.”

David giggles and says, “Oh yes, what artist wouldn’t want their work displayed at chez Brewer."

“It’s an honor really. And It wouldn’t let anyone else see it, it’s just for me. Very exclusive,” he quips back teasingly. 

David smiles when his head is suddenly bombarded with shapes and colors. The images swirls around in his head before settling into a picture, a picture of them. Just the two of them. 

David bites his lip and watches Patrick work, slightly appalled by the troll Patrick is beginning to paint wearing a golf polo, but fondness for him spewing over still. 

_A gift. I’ll paint him a gift._

David digs into his bag for a pencil and his notebook, his hand forming a rough sketch of the picture he sees in his head. 

“Did you come up with something?”

David snaps his notebook closed so that Patrick doesn’t see. “Nope, not yet. I’ll probably think of something when I go home.”

Patrick nods, seeming to not have noticed David’s haste and resumes painting his hideous ocean scape. 

_I hope to God he never paints anything for me._

* * *

“Do you want to go to the Spring Carnival?” David asks with his hands skimming up Patrick’s back underneath his baseball jersey. They’re in the equipment shed behind the baseball field, David pressed up against the metal wall and Patrick mouthing at his neck. 

Patrick pulls back in shock, ice coursing through his veins. 

“I-uh I thought you weren’t into that kind of stuff,” Patrick says anxiously. 

“I’m usually not,” David says playing with the hem of Patrick’s uniform. “And I know it’s really cheesy and the whole town will be there so it’ll be super crowded and it’ll be loud and kids will be screaming everywhere, but I thought it might be fun?” 

David bites his lip nervously and looks down towards the ground and Patrick feels his heart clench. Patrick was hoping to avoid the carnival all together, but if David wants to go, they’ll go. Patrick doesn’t think he can ever bring himself to not give David everything he wants. 

“I’ll go with you,” Patrick says. 

David’s lips quirk up and he tips his head back with a grin. 

“I mean, yeah if you want,” David says before kissing Patrick sweetly. The kiss deepens and David latches onto Patrick’s neck, nicking at his pulse point making Patrick’s eyes roll back. 

With the distraction, David swings them around so that Patrick is now pushed against the wall, David now moving his kisses downward, smoothing his hands down Patrick’s uniform. 

Patrick watches David move down to his knees in a daze, his mind going blank except for David, David, _David._

* * *

“David, I need to borrow a sweater,” Alexis says walking into his room without knocking. 

“Alexis, you are not taking one of my sweaters,” David calls out from his bathroom. 

“Okay well Ted needs a sweater because he’s cold. I’ll give it back tomorrow. Also mom needs you to help her run lines on Saturday. She’s doing some commercial for snowboards.”

“I don’t care if your newest boy toy is cold. And I won’t be able to help mom because I’ll be out on Saturday,” David replies walking out of the bathroom. 

“Oh, what are you doing?” Alexis asks from his closet. 

“Patrick and I are going to the Spring Carnival,” David says chewing on his bottom lip. 

Alexis suddenly pops her head out of his closet, her eyes wide. “Patrick is taking you to the carnival?”

“Yes.”

“The _Spring_ Carnival? The one where the whole town goes?”

“Yes, Alexis.”

“So like, _everyone_ will see you guys together?”

“Okay, get the fuck out-”

“David, this is so big for you!” 

“It’s not a big deal. We’re going as _friends._ ”

“Yeah, um, okay David as if I didn’t see you and Patrick sneaking out of the equipment shed earlier-”

“Alexis, are you stalking us!”

“Ew David, no! I was hanging out with Ted on the bleachers when I saw you. You should have gone the other way, the trees would have hid you.”

“Who’s Ted?” David asks desperately looking for a distraction. He watches Alexis fidget uncomfortably, her lips twitching. “A boy.”

“A boy?”

“Yes, David. A boy.”

“Wait, do you mean Ted Mullins? As in Ted Mullins the dude in my grade who always talks about animals and fecal samples-”

“He volunteers at the animal shelter and he’s practicing for vet school!”

“Oh my God,” David says with an evil grin. “You like him.”

“David, I don’t need this right now,” Alexis says walking back into his closet. 

David follows behind her, prodding her. “How long have you guys been seeing each other?”

“That’s none of your business, David!”

“One week? Two weeks?” David continues as Alexis looks through his sweaters. 

“Three,” Alexis mutters and David laughs in shock. 

“Oh my _God_ you must _really_ like him,” he teases. Alexis glares at him, but he can see her pressing her lips together tightly to keep herself from smiling. 

“And _you_ must really like Patrick to be going to a public social event with him,” Alexis says with her nose turned up. 

“Okay,” David says turning on his heel walking back to his room. “I end this now. Don’t touch my Givenchy.”

David closes the closet behind letting the smile he was keeping down light up his face. 

* * *

"What are you painting?” 

David presses his lips together, excitement rising in his chest. He finally finished the rough sketch for Patrick’s gift last night, beginning the underpainting today. 

“A parable of the obscure complexities of the socioeconomic consequences in prevalent media trends,” David replies. 

Patrick blinks at him blankly, and David wants to kiss him silly. But he pats Patrick’s knee instead and says, “You’ll understand when you see it.”

“I don’t think I will,” he mutters back, turning to his canvas. 

“We should talk about tomorrow,” David says stroking his brush on the canvas. 

Patrick doesn’t say anything beside him, so David turns to him and sees Patrick fidgeting in his seat. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Patrick replies, clearing his throat. “So, tomorrow?”

David purses his lips together and knits his eyebrows. “We’ll be careful tomorrow, if you’re worried about people seeing us together. We also don’t have to go,” David says already feeling disappointed. 

He knew they were going to have be on their best behavior tomorrow at the carnival, keeping things cordial and tame. But David really just wanted to seal in as many memories as he could with Patrick before he left in August. And although David would never admit it, he wanted some of those memories to be the clichéd, cheesy, small-town romantic things two kids in high school did when they were in love. 

Not that they were in love. 

Patrick freezes and whips his head towards David. “No! No, that’s not it. I want to go with you tomorrow.”

David bites his lip and nods his head, still nervous about Patrick’s hesitancy. 

“Hey,” Patrick says, sneaking his hand to latch into David’s, his thumb rubbing over one of David’s rings. “I’m excited to go with you. It’ll be fun. I’ll buy you a corndog.”

David stifles a grin, feeling lighter inside. “Can I get cotton candy too?”

Patrick laughs, the sound tickling everything inside of David. “Sure, you can eat it on the ferris wheel.”

David squeezes Patrick’s hand before letting go, and going back to his painting. 

* * *

“I’ll be over by six” Patrick says leaving the art room with David. 

“Think of what movie you want to watch,” David says, slinging his bag on his shoulder. 

“Oh, it’s my turn to pick now?” Patrick teases. 

“Yes, I believe our deal was you get to pick one movie for every three that I choose.”

“I’ll be sure to pick something classic,” Patrick says. “I gotta go to practice, I’ll text you when I’m out.” Without thinking about it, Patrick reaches up and kisses David on the cheek. David also doesn’t seem to think twice about it and accepts it with a smile, before turning around and walking away. 

Patrick feels nice knowing that they’ve fallen into a comfortable rhythm of showing their affection for each other, subconsciously showing each other they care. It’s so simple and domestic and Patrick looks forward to more of these tiny moments with David. 

With a smile he turns around and makes his way to the locker rooms, humming to himself. He turns the corner when he sees Brock leaning against the wall of entrance to the locker room, his arms crossed on his chest. 

Patrick takes a deep breath, ready to end the bet with Brock now, when someone claps him on the shoulder from behind him. 

“Brewer, change of plans,” Sam says as Patrick turns around the face him. “Coach is splitting up the team into two groups. One group is going out to the batting cages, the other is going to the weight room. You’re coming to the weight room with me.”

“Where’s Brock going?” Patrick asks. 

“Batting cages, he really needs to work on his swing,” Sam replies. Patrick quickly turns back around hoping to catch Brock before he leaves, but he’s gone already. Patrick curses to himself, frustrated from not being able to end the bet today. 

“Everything okay, Patrick?”

Patrick looks at Sam who has a concerned look on his face. Patrick lets out a ragged breath and puts on his best smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Cool, let’s go to the weight room. Would you mind if you spotted me?”

“No problem,” Patrick replies following Sam to the gym. 

_I have to find him at the carnival before I meet with David. I need to end this._

* * *

“What do you want in five years?”

Patrick opens his eyes and looks up at David smiling down at him. They’re in his massive backyard on a blanket, Patrick still gym clothes having rushed here after practice with his head in David’s lap. _The Godfather_ is playing softly on David’s laptop, forgotten about in favor of napping after an exhausting day. David rakes his fingers through Patrick’s head, lulling him to sleep. 

The sun is setting and the orange sky halos David’s head beautifully, Patrick losing his breath a little.

Patrick processes David’s question, an answer coming quickly. 

_You._

“Season tickets, a new car would be nice, maybe a trip to Italy-”

“No lying,” David huffs out.

“I’m not lying,” Patrick teases.

“Okay,” David says waving his hands with a flourish. “You know what I mean.”

Patrick chuckles and brings David’s hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles. 

_You have to answer truthfully._

So Patrick does. 

“This,” he says softly. 

David looks down at him, his eyes softening. “That was so cheesy.”

Patrick laughs which makes David get going, leaning down to kiss Patrick when Alexis’ voice cuts through the air. 

“David!”

“What!” David growls back.

“Mom and dad are on the phone for you!”

“Can’t they wait?”

“No!”

“Ugh,” David groans out, but Patrick is already lifting himself up, chuckling as he sits upright. 

“Go talk to your parents,” he says nudging David.

“It’s like they all know when to sabotage every romantic moment,” he mutters, standing up and storming to the house. 

Patrick watches him go affectionately before laying back down on the blanket, his arms pillowing his head. 

He means it, his answer to David. He wants this for as long as he can have it. 

“Alexis, what the fuck did you do to my Gucci sweater!” David screams from the patio. 

Patrick looks behind him and watches David waving his hands frantically in the air, clutching what he can only assume is said sweater, Alexis flailing her arms just as wildly.

_God, I love him._

Patrick stops moving. 

_I love him._

Suddenly the whisper that’s been inside of him for the last few weeks let's go, releasing into his body gently, settling down. 

It’s anticlimactic in a way, this revelation. As if his body is telling him, _oh, of course_. And Patrick thinks it’s because he’s always loved David. He doesn’t think there’s ever been a moment when he hasn’t loved David. 

He watches David stomp around, his perfectly coifed hair not moving an inch, his dark eyes wild with fury, his lips twisted in annoyance. And Patrick loves him more. 

_You found me. You found me when I wasn’t expecting you._

He knows David isn’t ready to hear the words yet, and Patrick doesn’t think he’s quite ready to say them either. But he feels an urge to express it somehow, to let it out just a little bit.

Patrick turns back around and rests his arms on his knees thinking, when he sees David’s notebook laying next to his laptop. 

Patrick grabs it, looking behind him to make sure David is still preoccupied with Alexis. He opens the notebook, distracted by the pages full of David’s thoughts and sketches. 

_Focus, Brewer._

Patrick thumbs the pages until he’s opened it at the middle, page blank, David still not having reached quite that far yet. He takes the pen that was wedged into the notebook and writes, “I love you” in the upper right hand corner. 

He traces the phrase with his fingers before closing the notebook and putting it back where it was. 

By the time David reaches that page, Patrick promises himself he will have said I love you at least a dozen times, if not a hundred. 

“It’s just goat poop David! Let it go!”

“ _Alexis!_ ”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone who celebrates had a lovely Christmas, because the time has come. 
> 
> *ANGST WARNING*CLIFFHANGER
> 
> We all knew it had to happen eventually. From this point on it's going to be pretty angsty. But don't forget, someone who believes these two belong together in every universe is writing this story. Just have a little bit of patience. 
> 
> Thank you all for your kind words. They lift me up high.

“Absolutely not,” Stevie says parking her car and shutting the ignition off. 

“We’re really just going as friends, I promise there will be no illicit activities happening today,” David says unbuckling his seatbelt. 

The carnival is in full swing outside, the sounds of screaming children filling the air. David agreed to meet Patrick at the carnival, hitching a ride with Stevie knowing Patrick would be coming with his parents. David has been feeling his stomach twist in knots since last night, knowing that this will be the first timw he and Patrick will be out in public together. Just as _friends_ , but still nerve-wracking nonetheless. 

Which is why David was hoping Stevie would stay with them to make sure things didn’t look to inconspicuous, except Stevie was choosing to be _very difficult._

“Okay, but I have _plans_ ,” Stevie says.

David cocks an eyebrow at her. “Um, what kind of _plans_?”

Stevie shifts uncomfortably in her seat, avoiding David’s gaze. 

“I’m meeting someone here."

“Who?”

“Someone.”

“Who?”

“A guy.”

“Who?”

“ _David.”_

_“Who?_ ”

“Jake!”

David’s mouth drops before his eyes narrow at her. “Jake? You’re meeting Jake _here_?”

“Yes I am,” Stevie says lifting her chin up and crossing her arms. 

“Oh, so Jake and his little pony are going to galavant through the carnival together? Eat some hotdogs, is Jake going to win you a prize?”

“No need to be jealous, David.”

David sputters indignantly. “ _I’m not jealous!_ I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you’re hanging out with Jake after our fiasco with him.”

“Sue me for wanting to have someone to make out with!” Stevie says throwing the door open and stepping out. 

David follows her out, his lips pursed together. “If I didn’t owe you so many favors, I would be much more annoyed by this.”

But Stevie doesn’t respond, choosing to walk ahead without him, waving her hand back at him. 

David massages his thumbs into his temple before stomping his way into the carnival, walking past clusters of people, many of whom were his classmates. 

The carnival is held in the town square lawn and pushes out into the roads around its perimeter. Streets are closed off to house various booths and tents, each road its own section: food, crafts, games, etc. There’s a ferris wheel in the center of it all, lights flashing as it makes its slow rotation over and over again. 

He was early, Patrick having asked David to meet up at 12:30 by the ferris wheel. But Stevie had asked to leave earlier, reasons that were unknown now fully known, so David has forty-five minutes to kill by himself. 

David knows he sticks out, feeling out of place against garish and festive color palette and unbridled joy many of the townspeople emote from their faces. But David can’t deny his excitement, the anticipation of what’s to come. 

It’s always been difficult for David to want things, to allow himself to think he deserves things. How could he after after years of being used and thrown away by people who only saw value in his wallet and not his person? It’s just been easier to pretend to not care. 

But being with Patrick has taught David that maybe it’s okay to let yourself wish for something and hope for it to come true. Maybe looking forward to something, with no guarantees, actually made you stronger? Braver?

Patrick made David braver. 

_You found me. You found me when I wasn’t expecting you._

Taking a deep breath, David walks through the carnival, confidence coursing through his veins. He passes by various rides, food tents, and the fortune teller tent before deciding on walking through the crafts booths, his eye having been caught by a very nice knitted scarf that was just _dying_ to be worn. 

He browses through the various booths, thoroughly impressed by many of the vendors and their creations. From custom ceramic vases to beautifully carved wooden figurines, David wonders if his small town always had this much beauty, or if it was hidden away except for once a year at the carnival. Someone really should be selling these items all year-round.

He’s admiring a hand-dyed silk scarf when he spots a very familiar head of hair ducking behind one of the booths. 

David’s lip quirks ups and he makes a beeline to Patrick, hoping they can maybe sneak in a few kisses where no one can see them. 

_Found you._

* * *

Patrick is pacing nervously behind his aunt’s tent, a small bit of space in between the various white tarps, hands clasped behind his back tightly. His parents are up front with his aunt, chatting together happily, allowing Patrick a moment to get away and compose himself. 

His decision is clear, no hesitation or regret telling him to reevaluate his choice. Because there is no other choice besides David. 

He takes a harsh breath, closing his eyes to re-center himself. 

He thinks about David and the time they’ve spent together so far. He thinks about the way he laughs, feeling lighter and freer and happier. And braver. So much braver. 

David makes Patrick braver. 

_He found me when I was so lost._

Feeling calmer and more at ease, Patrick opens his eyes and David is in front of him, his lips pressed together tightly with a smile peaking through and eyes crinkled. 

Patrick loses his breath and before he knows it, his arms are full of David, their lips coming together clumsily. The kiss is messy, their teeth mashing together because both of them are smiling so widely. 

When the pull apart, David has his arms wrapped around Patrick’s shoulders, grinning big, his cheeks red, and Patrick feels the world stop. 

_I love you._

“Hi,” David breathes out. 

“You found me,” Patrick says, tightening his arms around David’s waist. 

“Mm, I saw you while I was looking at a scarf, couldn’t help myself,” David says before kissing Patrick again. 

“Definitely not complaining,” Patrick murmurs between their lips. 

“You’re here early,” David says as his rubs his fingers into Patrick’s shoulders. 

“My parents wanted to say hi to my aunt. We usually run the booth with her, but her kids are helping out this year instead.”

“Oh!” David exclaims pulling back from Patrick. “Your parents are here? I have to go say hi.” David begins to untangle himself, but Patrick wraps his arms tighter around David, keeping him there. 

“Just a little bit longer,” Patrick mumbles, burrowing his face into David’s shoulder. He feels the vibrations of David laughter and his arms draping over Patrick once more. 

They stay there for just a moment longer, Patrick wishing for time to stop.

* * *

“We need snacks,” David says as they walk away from Patrick’s parents. They’re just as kind as the night he was over for dinner, Patrick’s aunt equally as nice as David feels the handmade crystal necklace she gave him for free heavy in his pocket. 

_“It’s made from labradorite! It’s a stone of protection, helping keep fear and insecurities away. It also helps strengthen faith in yourself and trust for the universe.”_

David loved it the moment he held it in his hand, the cold stones smooth against his palm. It is a wonderful gift from a member of Patrick’s family, but David knows he’ll really cherish it because it happens to be the same shade of blue of the sweater Patrick wore on their first date together. 

“Yes, I believe I promised you many snacks,” Patrick replies with a grin beside him. David is about to suggest getting ice cream first, when Patrick’s phone goes off. 

Patrick easily reaches into his pocket for it, the smile dropping from his face quickly. 

The same flash of something David saw weeks ago during his altercation with Brock returns in Patrick’s eyes. 

“What’s wrong?”

Patrick shakes his head, a stiff smile on his face. 

“Nothing, I forgot that I had to do something. Do you mind getting us a couple of snacks and meeting by the ferris wheel? I just have to go and take care of this real quick,” Patrick answers smoothly. But the flash is still there making David feel nervous. 

But he nods instead and says, “I’ll grab us some cotton candy.”

Patrick smiles again, a little less tense this time. He reaches down and squeezes David’s fingers quickly before he turns around and walks away. 

Something inside of David itches, wanting to follow Patrick. But he forces his feet forward to the food stalls, trying to convince himself that everything is okay.

* * *

Patrick is leaning against a wooden crate behind the fortune teller's tent when Brock appears. 

“Brewer, fancy seeing you here,” he says with a smug smirk. 

“Thanks for meeting me.”

“What is this about? You can’t win your bet from behind here.”

“The bet is off, Brock. You win,” Patrick says softly. 

Brocks eyes widen slightly, before narrowing suspiciously at Patrick. 

“Why? I know you and Rose are together, you can win this right now if you wanted to,” he says with a sneer. 

But Patrick shakes his head no. “It’s not worth it. I’m not going to use David like that.”

“So you’re giving up your spot on the team? For him?”

“That’s right.”

Brock laughs cruelly at Patrick, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Is that so? Well that’s no fun. It’s a cheap win, Brewer. No real gratification. But I guess that’s what you want, isn’t it? One more chance to one up me,” he spits out.

“This isn’t about you, Brock.”

“Then what is this about, Brewer? Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“This is about doing the right thing. None of this should have happened in the first place,” Patrick says pushing himself off from the crate. “All of this for baseball. It’s not worth it.”

Patrick steps closer to Brock staring directly at him. 

“I don’t want this to be one of my memories when I look back at high school. I don’t think you want that either."

Brock is quiet, crossing his arms protectively against his chest.

“You don’t know me Brewer. I don’t regret this for a second if it means I have your spot now.”

Patrick gives Brock a sympathetic smile and shrugs his shoulders. “It’s yours. I’ll tell Sam on Monday that I quit.”

Brock continues to stare at him, his hands clenched into tight fists. 

“It doesn’t feel as good, right?” Patrick asks softly. 

Brock looks away and lets out a harsh breath. “Fuck you, Brewer.” And without looking back at Patrick, Brock storms away.

* * *

David stands in line for cotton candy when his mind wanders back to Patrick. Something is obviously bothering him, what it could be David doesn’t know what. 

But _God_ does he want to know. 

He stands there, his eyes darting back and forth looking for Patrick when he sees Brock. David feels his face scrunch up, forcing his eyes to look away, but he feels them look back at him, his eyes following Brock as he storms by, his face red with anger. 

Something in David tells him to follow him, that Brock has been the source of Patrick’s turmoil. Patrick has always taken care of David, has made him feel more confident and wanted than he’s ever felt before. And David feels he should do the same. 

David reaches down into his pocket and palms the crystal necklace. 

Something inside of him propels his feet forward out of the line, David moving through to follow Brock. 

When they’re far enough away from the main crowd, David calls out, “Brock!”

Brock turns around in surprise before his face settles down into a scowl. “What do you want Rose?”

David swallows thickly, his hands becoming clammy. “I don’t know what’s been going on between you and Patrick, but you need to leave him alone.”

Brock’s face twists into something nasty, taking a step forward. “You have no idea what you’re talking about-”

“And neither do you,” David snaps. “Whatever petty game you’re playing with him needs to stop. Show some semblance of maturity.”

Brock is quiet for a moment. “What makes you think it’s just me playing the game?”

David rears back in shock. “Excuse me?”

“What makes you so sure your boyfriend isn’t also playing games?”

David sputters, taking a step back. “He’s not my boyfriend-”

“Oh please,” Brock says rolling his eyes. “I’ve known about you and Brewer since April. I know you’re together.”

David crosses his arms across his chest. “So what? Are you going to tell everyone?”

“No need,” Brock says also crossing his arms. “You are Brewer aren’t going to last much longer anyways,” he says with a menacing smirk. 

“Excuse me?” David breathes out. 

“Ask your boyfriend, Rose. Ask him about the last few months. See what he tells you.” Brock smirks at David one more time and then leaves, David standing frozen in place. 

* * *

Patrick is searching the carnival grounds looking for David when he sees Sam by one of the game booths. 

“Hey, Patrick,” Sam says clapping him on the shoulder happily. “Enjoying the carnival?”

“Yeah,” Patrick replies rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I’m just looking for someone."

A knowing look passes on Sam’s face before it settles into neutral coolness. “Sure. You know I think I saw David Rose going towards the game booths a little while ago. Surprised to see him here.”

Patrick’s eyes widen slightly and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, weird,” he murmurs. 

“I gotta go find Katie, but it was nice seeing you Patrick. I’ll see you at practice on Monday!” Sam says before walking away, Patrick’s chest clenching uncomfortably. 

He takes a deep breath and makes his way to the game booths, scanning the crowds for David. He finally spots him sitting on a bench across the street from the booths, on the main sidewalk in front of store buildings. Patrick jogs towards him, his heart lighter in knowing that now all he needs to think about is being with David. 

_Stay. Always stay._

“David,” Patrick says with a smile when he’s close enough. But the smile slides off his face when he takes in David’s appearance, his eyebrows knit together tightly, a frown on his face, his fingers fiddling with his silver rings. 

“Hey,” Patrick says gently. “I’m sorry I took so long. Why don’t we go get some snacks now? I can win you a prize too if you want.”

David continues to not look at him, staring blankly ahead. 

“David?” Patrick asks, his heart squeezing. He reaches out to touch David’s shoulder and he flinches away, panic beginning to bubble inside of him. 

“David, what’s wrong?” Patrick asks.

“Tell me about Brock,” David says flatly. 

“What?” Patrick asks confused. 

“You and Brock have been up to something,” David says turning his face towards Patrick, the pain in his eyes running Patrick’s blood cold. “What’s been going on?”

Patrick swallows thickly. “Nothing. I promise, nothing important."

_Answer truthfully._

David continues to stare at him, his eyes morphing into heartbreaking resignation. 

“You’re lying to me,” David whispers, his voice cracking. 

“No, no, David please-”

“We promised to never lie,” David says standing up from the bench, taking a step back from Patrick. “I know something is going on between you two and it has something to do with me.”

Patrick stares down at the ground, his hands clenching into fists nervously. 

“Tell me the truth, Patrick.”

Patrick lets out a heartbreaking breath, his throat dry. The sounds of the carnival are faint compared to the sound of his heart hammering in his ears. He can’t lie anymore. He’s too tired. “We had a bet,” he whispers out. 

David rears back as if he were struck. “A bet,” he repeats brokenly. “A bet for what?”

Patrick looks up at David, his eyes wet, his heart cracking. “You.”

David sucks in a harsh breath, his breathing beginning to quicken. And then the tears begin to fall. 

Everything freezes around them in that moment, a frigid chill climbing up Patrick’s body. Patrick feels his body losing energy, wanting to sink down into the ground, his hands shaking. 

“David,” he whispers, terrified. David looks frozen, his jaw slack, his eyes wide. 

“I was a bet?” David asks, his voice shaking, eyes blinking away tears.

“Please David,” Patrick whispers. “Let me explain-” 

“I was a bet? Y-you, you used me?”

“David,” Patrick breathes out. “David, please-”

But Patrick can’t finish because David has turned around and is storming away.

“No!” He shouts, running after him. “David!"

_Stay always._

* * *

David feels numb all over as he forces his feet forward.

_He lied._

David feels the tears running down his face.

_You should have known._

David’s hands shake, his chest closing in.

_You’re so stupid. Of course this was all fake._

David chokes out a sob, pushing past people, desperate to get away. 

_No one stays._

God, he wanted it so badly. He believed in all of it. He was so, so happy. 

David stumbles his way through the carnival grounds, bumping into people, pushing his way through.

He reaches the entrance when he feels someone grab his shoulder. 

“David-” Patrick says but David flinches away, pushing Patrick back. He stares at him, eyes wide, breathing ragged. 

They’re both quiet, neither of them saying anything. But the voices in David’s head gets louder. 

_A bet. This was all a bet. He’s been lying the whole time. Can you blame him? You’re not worthy, you’re unlovable._

“David, please-” Patrick says taking a step towards David, but he steps back quickly, shaking his head rapidly, squeezing his lips together. 

“Don’t,” David croaks out, his throat dry. 

Patrick looks broken, and David wants to believe that he is. 

_He used you. He’s used you this whole time. You’re nothing._

“David,” Patrick whispers desperately. “Please, let me explain.”

But David shakes his head and takes another step back. 

“David?” A voice from behind Patrick calls out. 

Stevie is standing there with Jake, her eyes concerned. David chokes back a sob, his eyes pleading towards Stevie. 

“Jake, I have to go,” Stevie says immediately, walking towards David and pushing past Patrick. She grabs his arm and leads him to her car, Patrick standing behind them, watching them go. 

_I thought you would stay._

* * *

Patrick watches Stevie lead David to her car, feeling hollow inside. His eyes are wide, he’s breathing heavily through his mouth, and Patrick feels like his legs are about to give out. 

_David. David. David._

He knew that this could happen. He knew David could find out. He knew what he did was wrong. 

But he was happy. So, so happy. 

Suddenly a fury takes over, Patrick’s hands shaking uncontrollably. His mind goes blank as his feet move him back into the carnival, pushing through the crowd.

He finds Brock talking with Sam beyond the game booths, in between two store buildings, his hands held up defensively. His eyes stay on Brock as he’s propelled forward, his fists clenched tightly. Patrick hears nothing around him, just the David’s voice, broken and lost. 

_Don’t._

“You did this,” Patrick spits out. “You started all of this-”

“Patrick, what does Brock mean you’re quitting the team?” Sam asks cutting in between him and Brock. 

“I didn’t make you do anything, Brewer,” Brock spits back. “You chose to take the bet. You could have stopped whenever you wanted to. Face it, you wanted to beat me as much as I wanted to beat you.”

“Why me? Why did you come after me?” Patrick asks harshly. 

“Because you don’t deserve shit, Brewer. Not even someone as pathetic as David Rose.”

Patrick sees red the moment David’s name leaves Brock’s lips. His ears begin ringing and his fists close around the collar of Brock’s shirt, pushing him against the brick wall. 

He hears nothing, the sound drowning out, his eyes wide with fury as he pushes Brock harder into he wall. 

Patrick is shaking, numb from the pain of losing David, his mind racing hysterically. His vision suddenly goes dark and all he can see is him. His eyes. His eyes.

David wouldn’t want this. David wouldn’t want Patrick to do this. 

He lets his hands go slack, stepping away from Brock, breathing heavily. 

Patrick doesn’t want to do this.

Brock leans against the brick wall rubbing at his neck, staring at Patrick with wide eyes.

“All of this,” Patrick whispers miserably. “for nothing.”

Brock looks away, his face twisting with anger. “It wasn’t nothing for me, Brewer. You’ll never understand.”

Patrick doesn’t say anything else, just shakes his head. 

“Patrick,” someone calls out.

Patrick whips his head and meets his dad’s eyes, sees the disappointment. His mom is next to him, her face crumbling with worry. 

Patrick feels his body sag, tears pooling in his eyes. 

“Patrick,” Sam says gently from beside him. “Go home.”

Patrick’s eyes are unfocused, his mind swirling. 

“Come, my sweet boy,” his mom says taking his arm gently. He lets his mom lead him away, his mind blank except for the image of David’s face. 

_Let me stay. Please, let me stay._

* * *

David wakes up the next morning feeling a warm body pressed up against him. He smiles to himself, turning his head to look at Patrick, but finds Stevie instead. And yesterday comes rushing back to him. 

He remembers going to the carnival. He remembers finding Patrick and kissing him. He remembers seeing Brock and following him. He remembers the bet.

David feels the wind knocked out of him again, desperately trying to get air back into his lungs. His eyes wide and watering, his chest contracting painfully. 

_Patrick. Patrick lied. Patrick played a bet to use you. Patrick doesn’t want you._

Suddenly, he feels Stevie’s arms wrapping around him, cradling his head into her chest. 

“Breathe, David,” she says gently, rubbing his back. “Breathe, in through your nose, out through your mouth.”

He tries, taking sobbing breaths, his body shaking uncontrollably. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

David lets out a sob, tears streaming down his face. 

“I-I don’t k-know what to d-do,” he whispers pathetically. 

“Just breathe,” Stevie says.

And David tries.

* * *

Patrick wakes up the next morning feeling empty. 

He didn’t sleep much last night. How can you after losing someone you love like that?

He locked himself in his room, pacing back and forth, running his hands through his hair, fidgeting with his hands, his head squeezing painfully. 

He called David twenty-six time. Sent him eighteen text messages. Left him nine voice mails. 

Patrick finally passed out from exhaustion at four in the morning. 

Patrick doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do now. He wants to run to David’s house, bang down the door until David talks to him. But Patrick knows he can’t do that. He has no right to do that.

He closes his eyes, praying for sleep to come and find him again, when there’s a gentle knock on his door. 

His mom peaks her head in hesitantly, her eyebrows knit together with worry. 

“Patrick?”

“Yeah, mom,” Patrick answers raggedly from his bed. 

“Breakfast is ready. Come downstairs and eat.”

“I don’t think I can eat anything right now, mom.”

“Patrick, you and I both know how this conversation is going to end. Come downstairs in five minutes.” And with that she closes the door gently behind her. 

Patrick rubs his face with his hands, feeling weighted down into the bed. But he swings his legs around and stands up, slipping on a hoodie and making his way downstairs. 

His dad is already sitting at the table, reading the Sunday paper with his glasses on while his mom prepares pancakes for all of them.

“Good morning, Patrick,” his dad says not taking his eyes off the newspaper. 

“Morning,” Patrick croaks, sitting heavily in a chair. 

His mom sets a plate of pancakes in front of him, kissing the top of his head before returning to the stove. 

Patrick picks up his fork and moves the pancakes around, feeling too nauseous to eat anything. 

A silent minute passes by before his father says, “So, you want to tell us why you almost gave that boy a shiner?”

“Clint,” his mom says harshly from the stove. 

“We need to talk about it Marcy, now or never,” his dad says folding up the newspaper. He takes off his glasses and puts them in his shirt pocket, turning his gentle eyes to Patrick. “What’s going on Patrick?”

Patrick feels his throat closing up, his eyes welling with tears. Patrick thinks this would be easier if his parents were angry at him, punished him, forbade him from leaving the house. But the fact that they’re being kind and patient wracks Patrick with guilt. 

“Patrick,” his mother says softly from beside him. She sits down next to him and brushes her fingers through his hair. “My sweet boy, talk to us.”

Patrick’s lips tremble as he prepares to lie to them, telling them everything is okay. But lying got him here. Lying lost him David. Patrick doesn’t want to lie anymore. 

So he tells them everything, from the beginning. The bet, art class, sitting with David, their first date, the picnic David planned because Patrick was stressed, laughing with him, loving him, everything.

By the time he’s done with his story, he’s resting his head on his mom’s shoulder as she runs her hand through his hair, just like she used to when he was little. His dad is watching him, his eyes kind and understanding. 

“I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you might see me differently,” he says quietly.

“Patrick,” his mom says tightening her arms around him. “You are the only thing that matters to us. We just want you to be happy, sweetheart.”

“We don’t want you feeling like you can’t come and talk to us, son,” his dad says. 

“I’m sorry. It just felt easier to hide it.”

His mom pats his cheek sympathetically. “You weren't that good at hiding it, dear.”

Patrick lifts his head in shock. “What?”

His mom cups his cheek, brushing away a tear. “You changed, Patrick. You became happier, brighter. And I knew David had something to do with it because of the way you looked at him, as if you were always searching for him.”

His dad chuckles from beside him. “Your mother has the eyes of a hawk. Not surprised she figured it out,” he says fondly. 

Patrick smiles a little, looking down at his hands. “I don’t think David will ever forgive me.”

“I wouldn’t say never, dear,” his mom says brushing her hand through his hair and picking up his plate of cold pancakes. “You didn’t see the way he looked at you.”

* * *

David is still cocooned in his bed when Alexis barges into his room without knocking, again.

Stevie had left an hour ago with the promise of returning with ice cream after her shift at the motel. David merely grunted and went back to wallowing by himself. 

“David, I need to take some of your sheet masks, I ran out,” she says walking into his bathroom.

“Sure,” David replies indifferently, not moving from his position in bed. 

Alexis immediately stops moving around in his bathroom and walks back out carefully.

“Um, what?”

“I said sure Alexis,” David says, rolling onto his side so he’s facing away from her.

“David, what’s wrong? Why are you bundled up in your bed? It’s only noon.”

“I don’t want to talk about it Alexis.”

“David, Dr. Meyer said that we need to have open communication in order to establish healthy siblings dynamics. What’s wrong?”

“Alexis, I need you to back off,” David huffs out.

Alexis stomps her foot on the ground stubbornly. “No! You’re obviously upset about something and you need to talk about it!”

“I don’t want to fucking talk about it!”

“Why not David? Why don’t you trust me?”

“Because you’re never here, Alexis!” David yells, bolting up from his bed. Alexis takes a step back in shock. 

“You’re never here,” David continues. “And neither are mom and dad. It’s just me and it’s only just been me to deal with things. So excuse me for not wanting to talk about my feelings with a fucking _stranger_.”

David lies back down, pulling the covers over his head, tears starting to run down his face. He hears the door gently close and squeezes his eyes shut. 

He knows his words probably hurt Alexis’ feelings, but he also knew they wouldn’t do much damage anyways. Alexis was always quick to walk away from an argument unscathed, unbothered by what was actually said. David envied her for that. 

But then the bed dips down beside him and David pulls the covers off of his head and sees Alexis sitting down next to him. 

He blinks at her in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Being here,” she says simply. 

David’s heart constricts and more tears fall from his eyes. Alexis reaches for his hand and takes it in her own and squeezes it.

* * *

Patrick paces his room clutching onto his cell phone. It’s almost 10pm now, Patrick having being able to avoid reaching out to David all day in order to give him some space. 

But he’s back at school tomorrow, which means David will be there. He needs to talk to David. 

He takes a deep breath and dials David’s number, his gut clenching. But the dial tone soon turns into David’s voice telling him to leave a message, and Patrick’s stomach drops. 

He sits heavily on the bed as he tries to find the words to tell David how he feels. 

“Hi. I k-know I have no right to be calling you, but please talk to me. Let me explain. I’ll tell you everything David, no more lies. Please,” his voice breaks. He takes a shuddering breath. “I miss you, David. Please, call me back.”

* * *

David is finishing up the ice cream with Stevie when his phone lights up, Patrick’s names flashing.

David feels his body tense up, his breathing coming out unevenly, when Stevie says, “You’re not going to pick up?”

“I don’t know what to say to him,” David answers. “I don’t think I’m ready to listen to him.”

Patrick had left David nine voicemails the night before, David erasing all of them before he let himself listen to any of them. He didn’t want to hear Patrick say what he knew he was going to say. 

_It was a bet. It was all a lie. It was all fake._

“You can’t ignore him forever.”

“Can’t I?”

“I think it’ll be worth it to listen to him at least, if not for you to find some closure.”

But David didn’t want closure. Closure meant it was over. Closure meant it was true that Patrick didn’t want him. Closure meant no more Patrick in his life. 

And as angry and hurt David felt, he didn’t want to think about Patrick not being in his life. 

Before David has a chance to answer the phone, the screen goes blank again. He picks up the phone and unlocks it, staring at the missed call notification. Then his phone alerts him of a new voicemail.

“We need more whipped cream,” Stevie says from her spot on the floor and stands up, walking out of his room leaving him alone. 

David bites his lip and presses play on the voicemail, his hands shaking. 

_“Hi. I k-know I have no right to be calling you, but please talk to me. Let me explain. I’ll tell you everything David, no more lies. Please. I miss you, David. Please, call me back.”_

Tears drop from David’s eyes again, his insides squeezing tightly. David wants to call Patrick, tell him that it wasn’t fake for him, that he wants to go back to how things were. 

But David is so, so scared.

* * *

Patrick goes to school with a knot in his stomach the entire day. His eyes dart between bodies, trying to find David in the crowd. But Patrick can’t find him. 

At lunch, Patrick meets with Sam in the locker room, telling him everything and officially quitting the baseball team. 

Sam shakes his head disappointedly. “I told you not to let Brock get to you, Patrick.”

“Yeah,” Patrick responds emotionlessly. “A bit too late for that.”

“He’s going to have a rude awakening when he finds out he still won’t be starting short stop for the rest of the season. The line up is decided by coach and I, not by childish games. And after all this shit, there’s no way he’s going to be playing.”

Patrick nods stiffly, looking down at the floor. 

“You worked so hard, Patrick. Was it worth it?”

Patrick opens his mouth to say no, but then he sees David in his head. Smiling at him, teasing him, waving his hands dramatically, pulling Patrick in with the promise of sweet kisses. 

He found David. And himself. 

“Yes,” Patrick replies with conviction. Sam’s eyebrow raise in shock, a contemplative look settling on his face. 

“I see,” he says softly. He nods his head and makes his way out of the locker room. He almost out before he stops and says, “Just give him more time, Patrick. I think he’ll come back.” And with that he’s gone, leaving Patrick alone with his thoughts. 

* * *

David Rose skipped school today. After he dropped Alexis off, he drove for hours, going from town to town to town, needing something, anything really, to distract him. He passed by the drive-in movie theater he and Patrick frequented often in Elmdale, the memories of the two of them fooling around the back seat of his car still fresh in his mind. He passed by the ice cream shop in Elm Valley where David always managed to steal a couple of bites from Patrick’s cup, although it was obvious that Patrick always let him. And he passed by Valley Hill Park, the images of their first date and the beautiful picnic they shared squeezing David’s inside so tightly, he found it hard to breathe. Every corner had a memory of Patrick ingrained, impossible for David to escape from. 

He drove to the one and only place that held no memories with Patrick: the library.

It was an odd place for anyone to find David Rose there which meant it was his favorite place. No one would ever expect it.

He first came here when he was fourteen after his middle school graduation. He had been in boarding school up until then, one of the best in the country, and David remembers standing in the middle of the crowd by himself, looking for his family. They sent for the chauffeur to pick him up. 

During the long drive back, he asked the driver to drop him off at town, needing to walk around and think by himself. He wandered aimlessly, feeling lonely and hurt, when he stumbled upon the library, staring at the wooden double doors before spontaneously walking through them. 

He wandered the aisles aimlessly for hours, touching the spines of hundreds of books, plucking them off the shelf to read them. 

He went back frequently, reading everything he could get his hands on. _Frankenstein_ , _Jekyll and Hyde_ , _Pride and Prejudice_ , _The Odyssey._

And when it was warm enough, he would go out back to the large weeping willow and sit underneath its long branches, a stack of books next to him. 

David sits down on the ground, leaning his back against the rough bark, and closes his eyes, listening to the gentle swaying of the branches. 

He doesn’t think about anything. He doesn’t really want to. He just wants to exist by himself, just for a little bit. 

_Let me just pretend, just for a little while._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with the reveal. Because we've seen this trope so many times haven't we? And I thought I had to make something amazing and uniquely different. But as important as the bet is, I realized what's even more important is everyone's reaction to it, how they deal with the aftermath. So I hope you can forgive me for the cliché reveal and trust me when I say there's so much more to come.


	11. Chapter 11

Patrick enters the art room knowing he wouldn’t see David, but still hoping he would nonetheless. His heart squeezes at the sight of their corner, empty and sad and debates whether or not he should still set up two stations. He does so just in case.

David isn’t in the art room the next day. Or the day after that. It isn’t until the end of the week that Patrick stops looking towards the door hoping to see David walk through. He knows he’s not coming. 

Patrick can’t bring himself to sit in their corner without him. It’s filled with happy memories and the thought of tainting them with Patrick’s loneliness grips his heart painfully. He sits on the other side of the room with the rest of the class, forcing himself not to look there and failing a few times out of weakness. 

There’s only one assignment left before the end of the year. Ms. Moore announces it during the second week David isn’t there. 

“Paint what you want to see in your future.”

Patrick stares blankly at his canvas knowing exactly what he wants to paint, but knowing that he can’t.

He wants David. Only David. He can see them laughing together, holding hands and walking down a street in New York City. He can see them bundled up on the couch during a cold winter day, wrapped in each others arms watching another movie from their list before abandoning it to fall into their kisses. He can see them dancing, David’s arms around his shoulders and his around his waist, swaying together gently, no one else there but them. Patrick sees it so clearly that he aches. 

At the end of class, Patrick carries his blank canvas to the drying racks to store until tomorrow when he sees one that catches his eye. It’s the last painting David was working on before he stopped coming and Patrick loses his breath. He pulls out the canvas, his hands trembling slightly. It’s clearly unfinished, the underpainting dry and some shapes roughly sketched out. He can feel David’s energy on it, grasping onto it desperately to hold in his heart.

He places it back carefully in its place, hoping that one day David might come looking for it. 

But he never comes. Patrick continues keep his eye out for him in the hallways, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But David manages to elude him. But he can’t stop himself from looking. 

_You’re always looking for David_. 

Weeks pass by, closing in the school year. Baseball ended two weeks prior, the team having lost their chance at going to the championships. Brock avoids him, not that Patrick wants to talk to him now. They have unfinished business between them, but Patrick wonders if it’s worth it to find closure with him. 

His anger for Brock slowly disappears, their history insignificant compared to the rest of Patrick’s world. Maybe they’ll talk one day. Patrick doesn’t know what he’ll say though.

Ms. Moore is giving her end of year remarks when the bell rings and students rush to get their belongings together and rush out  


“Don’t forget to take your work with you!” she calls out to the sea of bodies rushing out the door. 

Patrick is the last one to leave, taking his time to take in the space. Graduation is in a week and Patrick knows he won’t be back in this room. It’s a sorry goodbye to such a critical piece of his life. The place where he spoke to David Rose for the first time and where fell in love with him. He feels a piece of his soul latch onto the space, not wanting to move on, needing to stay with the happy memories he shared with David. 

He’s walking towards the door when Ms. Moore stops him. “Patrick, don’t forget to take your work with you, I hate throwing away pieces that are left behind.”

Patrick nods and walks over to the drying racks. He’s reaching for his canvas when his eye suddenly darts to the painting David left behind. It’s still in its spot, untouched for several weeks. 

Without a second thought, Patrick takes it with him, unable to stand the thought of it being thrown with the other paintings left behind. He places it carefully in the trunk of his car and throws a jacket over to protect it. 

When he gets home, he carefully takes the canvas and tucks it away in his closet, his fingers skimming the edges. 

He closes the closet door gently behind him, sealing a piece of David in.

* * *

David avoids going into the art room for the rest of the school year. He avoids the crowds all together, reverting back to his old habits of keeping himself as small as he can. No one talks to him, or whispers his name in the hallways, so he knows his relationship with Patrick is still a secret. Not that it matters much anymore.

One thing to come out after all of this is Alexis, who seems to be more in tune with her brother’s needs. She sits with him during lunch in the library, shooing away her admirers so they can be together in solitude. Sometimes Ted Mullins joins them, Alexis’ cheeks stained red. 

He doesn’t paint. David’s rule was to never move onto another piece until the one he was working on was completed. The unfinished painting that’s currently sitting in the drying racks of the art room haunt him at night, its shapes and colors still swirling in his head. 

David tries his best to forget about it, to move on from it. But moving on from the painting means moving on from Patrick, and David can’t seem to let that go. But as the school year comes to a close, he knows he needs to allow himself just one morsel of closure.

On the last day of school, David makes his way to the art room, eyes darting everywhere to be on the look out for a familiar head of brown hair. He chose to wait fifteen minutes after the last bell as a precaution. His hands tremble as he reaches for the doorknob, his insides churning uncomfortable. He peaks his head in first and sees only Ms. Moore is left in the classroom. 

He hates to admit it, but disappointment pools in his stomach. With a heavy breath, he enters the classroom, playing with the rings on his fingers as he takes in the space. 

David spent four years of his life in here. This is where he came when he needed solitude, putting on his headphones and drowning out the world with his brush. But when David looks around, he doesn’t see himself alone. He sees himself with Patrick. He’s suddenly overcome with emotion, the thought of having to say goodbye to this room and those memories overwhelming. He’s leaving for New York in only a few weeks, moving up his move-in date back to his original plan of the end of June. 

He feels his eyes stinging with tears when he hears Ms. Moore gently saying his name. 

“David?” She says making her way over to him with a smile. “I’m glad you stopped by. I was afraid I wasn’t going to have a chance to say goodbye to you.”

David nods at her, squeezing his eyes tightly. “I-I just wanted to be in here one last time.”

“You’ll be missed here, David,” she says gently. David chokes back a sob as she opens her arms for him, David falling forward and leaning his head against her shoulder. 

“You are going to do amazing things, my dear,” she says softly into his ear, rubbing his back. “Your talent will take you far.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs into her shoulder. They pull apart, David hastily wiping away his tears. 

“Why don't you make sure nothing is left behind in the drying racks? The custodians are cleaning the room tomorrow and I’d hate for one of your pieces to be jostled about.”

David nods and walks over to the drying racks, to where he last placed his painting. But it’s not there, or in any of the other racks and David feels his stomach drop. 

“It’s not here,” he says when Ms. Moore walks over to him. 

“Oh no, someone must have taken it by accident. I’m so sorry David, I wished I’d been more careful with it."

David shakes his head. “It’s okay. This might be for the best actually.”

Ms. Moore places a reassuring hand on his shoulder and gently squeezes. “Let me walk you out.”

They walk out of the room together, David casting one more lingering look at the corner he shared with Patrick, feeling a piece of him being left behind. He closes the door gently behind him.

* * *

The graduation ceremony finishes quickly, many people wanting to get out of the hot June sun. For Patrick it passes by in a blur, distracted from everything until he hears David’s name being called. 

“David Rose.”

Patrick watches David walk across the makeshift stage on the football field with his head looking downward. He’s frowning, his eyebrows furrowed together. When he takes a hold of the diploma passed to him, he lifts his head slightly and scans the crowd quickly before scurrying off stage as the next name is called. Patrick also lifts his head to look through the bleachers, finding his parents easily, surrounded by his cousins, aunts and uncles. He smiles at them, but continues to look for David’s family, feeling his gut coil with disappointment because he can’t find them. 

Everyone is buzzing with excitement at the end of the ceremony, the crowd thick with moving bodies. Patrick weaves through it, trying his best to find David, just a glimpse, before looking for his own family. 

Patrick makes his way out of mass of people, his eyes still scanning for David. Patrick turns a corner around the building and stops short when he sees him. He immediately backtracks, ducking behind the wall so he isn’t seen.

David is with his family, the four roses tucked privately away from everyone else. David’s dad has a hand on his shoulder, his mother standing next to him and Alexis beaming from his other side.

“We are so proud of you son,” Patrick hears Mr. Rose say. David lowers his head slightly, his cheeks red and his lips pressed into a hard line. 

“You have brought insurmountable beauty into this lackluster town, David,” Mrs. Rose says, gently nudging David’s head up with her hand. “And you’ll only spread more with your prodigious talent.”

Patrick can see David’s eyes bright with tears. Alexis taps the tip of David’s nose with her finger. “Congratulations, David.”

And for the first time, David smiles and Patrick feels his body burst with happiness. He takes in David for a moment longer before he forces his feet to walk away and let the Roses have their privacy. 

* * *

David is driving Stevie home late at night after a long day of hanging out together at his house. He doesn’t want to, having tried to convince Stevie to sleep over tonight, but she insisted on going home, saying, “I have to get used to not having you here anyway.”

David’s hands are gripping the steering wheel tightly, his body stiff as he thinks about what is to come.

He is leaving for New York in two days. He is leaving for New York by himself. He is leaving Stevie here. 

They aren’t very _expressive_ about their friendship to each other. They don’t wear tacky matching BFF necklaces that are sold at roadside rest stops. They don’t have affectionate nicknames for each other. Unless you counted “Mistress of Mediocre” or “Dickface” as affectionate. 

They were just two lost souls who happened to find each other. But God, is David grateful.

He pulls up her driveway and turns off the ignition and they both sit there in the dark in silence. 

“Well, thanks for the ride,” Stevie says quickly reaching for the handle. She’s about to open the door when David stops her, wrapping a hand around her wrist. She freezes, turning to look at him curiously. But he just bites his lip and stares at her, not saying anything, and not having to. She lets go of the door handle and leans back into her seat, tipping her head back. 

They sit there, listening to the crickets outside, a car passing by every now and then, the sound of their breathing filling up the car. 

“What time is your flight on Thursday?” Stevie asks. She already knows the answer, having asked David at least six times already. But he knows she’s not asking because she doesn’t remember. 

“3:45,” he replies quietly.

“You really need to start packing, David."

David huffs, crossing his arms. “You try packing over 200 different sweaters into 5 suitcases.”

Stevie snorts before opening her door. “Come on.”

David opens his door and follows her around to the front of his car. He watches Stevie hoist herself up onto his hood. “Stevie! Get off of my Mercedes!” David hisses.

“Relax,” she says calmly, lying back, pillowing her head with her arms. “They’re meant to be sturdy.”

David makes a sound in the back of his throat, but relents, carefully pulling his body up his car, making sure it doesn’t cave in under his weight. He leans his head back so that it’s next to Stevie’s, looking up.

Stars litter the night sky, tiny and bright against the black galaxy. David feels his body relaxing, his mind winding down. 

“I won’t have this view in New York City,” David says quietly.

“You’ll have 24/7 Chinese food delivery though.”

“It won’t be this quiet.”

“You’ll have access to the best galleries in the world.”

“I won’t have a staff to help at my apartment.”

“You’ll have fancy rooftop parties and overpriced cocktails.”

“I won’t have you.”

Stevie is quiet besides him. “Yeah, well I’ll be here if you decide to come back.”

David closes his eyes, his throat tightening up. How can he not come back, if not for her?

“Will you visit me?” David asks, fear laced in his voice. 

Stevie answers by taking his hand in his and squeezing tightly. He feels his body ease back down, a small smile gracing his lips. 

“Best wishes,” she murmurs. 

“Warmest regards,” David whispers back. 

On the other side of town, in Valley Hill Park, Patrick lays on top of the picnic table he and David shared their first kiss on, looking up into the same night sky. He watches the stars twinkling, letting himself get lost in the darkness. His body calls out for a name, the same name he’s been missing for the last few weeks. He smiles as David’s face appears in his head. 

_I’ll stay, if you want me. Please, want me._

* * *

Patrick parks his car in the parking lot of the library, reaching for the stack of books sitting on his passenger seat. His mom asked him to drop them off, sending him off with a kiss on the cheek. 

He walks in, dropping the books into the return slot and decides the peruse the aisles for a book for himself. It’s going to be a long summer before his college class start in late August, and Patrick can use a good distraction. 

Despite living in such a small town, David has managed to keep himself hidden from Patrick. His body always looks for him though, craving David desperately every day. 

He scans the books on the shelves, seeing if anything will pique his interest. As he turns a corner, Patrick loses his breath. 

David is sitting on the floor, his back against the bookshelf, his knees pulled up to his chest, balancing a large book on his knees. He has his glasses on and his large headphones are resting over his ears.

Patrick can’t remember the last time he’s seen David with his headphones on. They seemed to have disappeared when they began talking.

David shifts slightly from his spot on the floor and Patrick moves quickly to the next aisle so that David doesn’t see him. He walks quietly to where David is sitting, separated by the shelf and peeks through the books to look at David’s thick dark hair. 

_Is this the only way I’ll be able to see him? Through a bookshelf?_

Patrick feels pathetic, but can’t bring himself to walk away. Instead, he sits down on the ground against the shelf behind him. He closes his eyes and tips his head back until it hits the shelf and stays there. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there until he hears someone clear their throat. He looks up before a chill runs down his spine. 

David is looking down at him with no expression on his face.

Patrick scrambles to stand up, his heart beating out of his chest.

They look at each other, the silence between them thick. 

“Hi,” Patrick finally breathes out. 

“Hi,” David says, still no expression on his face. “How long have you been sitting there for?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick answers truthfully. 

David presses his lips into a hard line and looks away. “I think, I think it’s time we had a talk,” he says quietly. Patrick nods stiffly, a lump in his throat stopping him from being able to speak. 

David gives him one more look before turning on his heel and walking away. Patrick follows him, out of the library, around the building, and towards a large weeping willow. 

David stands underneath it, looking up into its branches. Patrick stands next to him. 

“This is my spot. I used to come here whenever I had a fight with my family,” David says softly. “You can see past the trees when you sit down, and the world seemed so much bigger than what you thought it was. It was a good distraction.”

He wants to reach out and hold David’s hand in his, but instead shoves his hands into his pockets, keeping them restrained. 

They’re both quiet, an awkward silence falling between them. Patrick has so much he wants to say, but knows he needs to let David start. He owes him that much. 

“What was the bet?”

“To get you to be my boyfriend for a spot on the team.”

“Is that why you started talking to me?”

“No, that was before everything with Brock. I started to talk to you because I wanted to.”

“When did you have to do it by?”

“The Spring Carnival.”

David lets out a humorless laugh. “We got together way before then. Why did it go on for so long?”

“Proof had to be a kiss at the carnival in front of everyone."

David nods and takes a shuddering breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid you would stop talking to me.”

“Was any of it real?” David asks, his voice trembling. 

Patrick looks David in the eye. “David, all of it was real.”

David lets out a harsh breath, turning away from Patrick. He sits down heavily on the ground, drawing his knees up to his chest, resting against the bark of the tree. Patrick sits down next to him carefully, keeping space between them. David tips his head back and stares upward. 

“I’m so mad at you,” David whispers. 

“I know.”

“I should hate you.”

“You should."

But David doesn’t say anything after that, closing his eyes instead. 

Patrick stares down at his hands, pulling at them nervously, wanting to reach out and take David in his. And this could be the last chance he gets with David. So what does he have to lose?

So Patrick gently takes David’s hand in his, expecting him to pull away. But David opens his palm instead, sliding their hands so their fingers lace together, and Patrick feels his body shift back to feeling whole again.

They sit underneath the shade of the weeping willow, holding hands, a light summer breeze shifting between them. Patrick closes his eyes and allows himself to pretend that this is okay, that they were meant to be here and that nothing ever went wrong.

They sit there until the sun begins to set, the sky streaked with colors. Patrick is rubbing his thumb along David’s knuckles when he feels him start to pull away. 

Panic rushes through Patrick and he opens his eyes and tightens his grip on David’s hand. He turns towards David who has a sad smile on his face and Patrick feels himself breaking again. 

_No, just one more minute, please._

But David pulls his hand away and stands up, Patrick scrambling after him. They face each other, the sad reality crashing down. 

“I have to go,” David whispers. Patrick shakes his head, choking down a sob. 

“David, please-” Patrick says taking a step forward, but David steps back, keeping the distance. Pain shoots through Patrick’s body, up to his head. 

Patrick takes a shuddering breath and looks away, defeated. “Okay,” he whispers back. 

David smiles at him, a tiny one. A private one, just for Patrick to see. 

_Stay._

“Will you come back?” Patrick blurts out. 

David presses his lips together, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

Patrick closes his eyes and nods stiffly, his insides twisting. He wants to tell David he loves him, has loved him from the beginning. But Patrick knows he shouldn’t. He can’t keep David like that. 

The devastating reality of knowing he’ll never have the chance to tell David how he really feels floods through Patrick. Their time together was so short. 

Patrick nods his head sadly at David, his eyes raking over him desperately, searing David’s face into his mind. 

“Come back, David Rose,” Patrick says softly. David lets out a wet laugh, shaking his head. His eyes meet Patrick’s and together they give each other a silent goodbye. 

David turns on his heel and walks away.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are now at the point of just PINING. There will be so much of it, I'm very sorry (I'm not at all)
> 
> Once again thank you all for your kind words. This month has been absolutely BRUTAL, just a clusterfuck of things happening as we wrap up this year. But believe when I say that this is always the best part of my day. 
> 
> Enjoy friends <3

Patrick Brewer is _very_ late for class. He runs through the quad, dodging other students, nearly bursting through a group of people on a campus tour as he sprints to his lecture. It’s been two months since the beginning of the semester and you would think Patrick would have his routine down pat. But due to his phone being dead because he forgot to plug it in the night before resulted in no alarm going off this morning. It wasn’t until his roommate shaking him awake that Patrick realized he only had 15 minutes before the start of class. 

Other than this one hiccup, Patrick has fallen into the rhythm of college fairly easy. He likes most of his classes, his classmates have been nice, and he’s even played a couple of intramural sports. He still goes home during the weekends to visit his parents, the drive only being half an hour away. 

But what helps Patrick especially is one Miss Stevie Budd. 

He remembers seeing her across the lecture hall during his first day of class, their eyes meeting in shock. What was more interesting was the class the lecture was for: Art History 101.

When Patrick was signing up for his classes, filling up his slots with various business classes for his major, his eyes fell upon an opening for art history. Patrick still thinks about David often. And by often he means every day. 

It’s not as painful as it once was. Instead the thought of David helps Patrick relax, the image of dark eyebrows and a crooked grin seeming to be the best way for him to destress. So he signed up for the class, curious to learn about all the names of artists David use to tell him about. 

For the first two weeks of class, both he and Stevie avoid each other like the plague, choosing to sit on either end of the lecture hall. Patrick even considers dropping the course. But then on the third week, as Patrick is pulling out his notebook, someone drops their bag heavily on the seat next to him, Patrick looking up startled. 

Color him surprised to see Stevie looking down at him, her face like stone. He blinked up at her, not knowing what to say. 

So Stevie spoke for the both of them. 

_“Lets stop pretending like we don’t go to the same school,”_ she said sitting down. _“I don’t want to feel awkward every time I come in here.”_

_“And this is in any way less awkward?”_ Patrick asked incredulously. 

_“Nope. But I need someone to copy notes from, and the kid that usually sits next to me is clearly in the wrong class.”_

From that point on they become friends because it’s almost impossible for either of them not to like each other.

She still lives in Schitt’s Creek, working at her family’s motel. So a month after they started talking, Patrick gives Stevie an extra key to his room so that she can go in and nap on his bed whenever she wants. She’s in there more often that he is. 

They eat lunch together, study in the library together, and drive around on the weekends blasting 90s hiphop together. 

Their friendship is easy, but there is one unspoken rule: neither of them are allowed to bring up David. 

Patrick knows Stevie talks to David almost every day, having listened in on some conversations by accident. And as much as Patrick wants to ask her about him, he knows better not to. Stevie may be his friend, but David was her person. He knew he would get nowhere. 

He makes it to his lecture with a minute to spare, his breathing ragged as he plops down in the chair next to Stevie. 

“You look like shit,” Stevie says passing him half of her granola bar. He takes it gratefully, the sweetness giving him a little bit of energy. “Forgot to charge my phone, my alarm didn’t go off.”

“So I can’t hang out tonight, something came up and I have to head home after my last class.”

“What?” Patrick asks taking his things out of his backpack. 

“Just a thing,” Stevie replies casually, and Patrick immediately know it has to do with David. He and Stevie have scheduled video chats and Stevie never misses one. 

“No problem,” Patrick replies easily. “Still on for lunch though?”

“Of course, you’re buying,” Stevie says with a cheeky grin. 

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Still holding me up for yesterday, aren’t ya?”

“Not my fault the Leafs fumbled around last night. You suck at taking bets.”

Patrick snorts at the irony. “Tell me about it,” he murmurs, quieting as the lecture begins. 

* * *

David Rose is _very_ late for class. It’s completely _not_ his fault, but David has learned quickly that professors don’t care if the 6 train was stalled due to someone pulling the emergency brake. They cared if you were late. So after standing in an unmoving train for 10 minutes on 33rd street, David decided to walk the rest of the way, only having exactly 7 minutes until his class began. 

Other than this one snafu, David has fallen into the rhythm of going to school in New York City fairly well. It was rough the first month he was here, missing his family and Stevie so much that it ached. Not to mention Patrick consuming his thoughts.

But one morning, David woke up in his apartment determined to make it on his own in the city, exploring all day and learning the subway map inside and out. From that point on, things only got easier. 

He walks quickly down third avenue with his sunglasses on and headphones over his ears, his feet matching the beat of his music. He feels powerful and strong whenever he walks the streets of New York City now. 

David loves all of his classes, finally feeling artistically challenged, a sense of competitiveness being born within him. He knows he has a lot to prove, but it fuels an excitement in him that he could never find back home. 

But still, David misses home desperately sometimes. He’s made some casual acquaintances here, likeminded people who share a similar aesthetic. But David knows he’ll never have a friend like Stevie and quite frankly doesn’t want another friend like her anyway. One is just enough. 

They talk almost every day, text messages and phone calls woven into their daily routine. But every now and then David will demand video chats, needing the intimacy of seeing her face, knowing that’ll be the closest he’ll have to having her physically be here. They each pour themselves a glass of wine and watch a garbage reality tv show together.

He talks about New York and she talks about home. They talk about their classes, about the excitement of college. 

They do not talk about Patrick. 

David knows Stevie is friends with Patrick now, thinking back to the day she told him. She dropped it so casually thinking David would miss it. But it’s impossible for him to miss anything about Patrick. 

_“You’re friends with who?!” David asks wildly on the phone._

_“Patrick and I are in the same class and it just made sense for us to sit next to each other-”_

_“Traitor. You’re a traitor.”_

_“Thank you, David.”_

_“What class is it anyway? Why can’t you switch out of it and take something else?” David asks petulantly._

_“It’s art history.” And David shuts up immediately._

He tried not to think too much into it, like _really_ tried. But David can’t help but think Patrick is taking that class because of him. 

Not that it matters. 

David makes it to his class with only a minute to spare, dropping his bag next to an empty easel. The other students are already working on their paintings, everyone wearing headphones and working on their own. It’s very different from the art room back home, the other students usually chatting with each other to help pass the time. But here you need the time. You need to meet deadlines. You don’t have time for friends. 

David settles in and begins to work on his piece, turning up the volume of the music, letting the world fade away.

* * *

It’s a chilly afternoon in December when Stevie lets it slip that David is coming home for Christmas break while they’re in the dining hall studying for their finals. It was completely by accident and super nonchalant, but that doesn’t stop Patrick from dropping his pencil. 

“What?” Patrick asks shocked. 

Stevie stops flipping through the pages of her textbook, quickly realizing what she had just said. 

_“As much as I want to spend my time getting drunk next Saturday with Matt at Jeremy’s party, I have to go pick up David from the airport.”_

“Oh shit,” Stevie mutters, burrowing her head in her hands. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

“What, were you going to sneak around in between hanging out with me and David?”

“I would have figured something out.”

Patrick sighs, closing his notebook and resting his hands on top of the table. 

“Listen, I know it’s been hard for you juggling me and David. Spend the break with him. Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re my friend too,” Stevie says stubbornly. And they were friends. Really good friends. As in they lean on each other for everything friends.

But Patrick knows that Stevie has missed David fiercely, refusing to admit it out loud. And Patrick doesn’t mind helping Stevie through it, because she’s helped him through it too. 

“Stevie, we can hang out whenever. You’ll only have David for a little bit. It’s fine. Spend time catching up with him,” Patrick says reassuringly.

Stevie bites her lip and nods her head, looking back down at her textbook. Patrick opens up his notebook again and reviews his notes. 

“What about you? Don’t you want to see him?”

Patrick closes his eyes and leans his head forward. Does Patrick want to see David? Of course, he’s wanted to see David every day since their last day back in June. Patrick thinks about seeing David again any moment he can, wanting him so much that it hurts. 

“I think you know the answer to that,” he murmurs. 

Back in September, when their friendship was still new, Stevie demanded Patrick tell her everything about his relationship with David. 

_“You know, I really shouldn’t like you. You hurt my best friend.”_ Stevie said from his bed. Patrick looked up from his laptop and turned towards her. _“I did.”_

_“What happened between you and David?”_

_“He didn’t tell you?”_

_“No, he told me everything. But I want to hear your side.”_

And so he told her everything. He told her about the first time he ever saw David. He told her about watching him in art class for the first six months of senior year wanting to talk to him. He told her about Brock, and the bet, and falling in love with David Rose. He told her he still thinks about him every day, wishing for more time with him. 

She listened silently, lying on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. _“Do you still want to be my friend?”_ Patrick asked, dreading the answer. 

She turned to him and simply said, _“Yes.”_

Stevie is the only one who knows that Patrick loves David, swearing to him she will never tell him. _“You’re both idiots,”_ she said rolling her eyes. She’s never brought it up since. 

“Spend time with David,” Patrick says firmly. “I’ll be here when he leaves.”

Stevie gives him one more look before shaking her head and going back to her textbook. Patrick looks back down at his notes, the words blurring together. 

* * *

Patrick is pulling up his parent’s driveway when his mom is already out the door rushing to him. 

“My sweet boy,” she says enveloping him in a hug, pressing her cheek against his. 

“Mom, I’ve only been gone for three weeks,” Patrick says chuckling. 

“Three weeks too long,” she responds, cupping his cheek with her hand. 

“Come on,” he says gesturing her inside. “It’s too cold for you to be outside with a jacket you crazy woman!” They enter the warm house together, Patrick shrugging off his winter jacket and hooking up on the coat rack. “Hi, Dad,” Patrick says waving towards his father who is sitting on the couch watching tv.

“Patrick,” he says standing up, clapping his son on the shoulder. “Glad to have you back home, son.”

“I come almost every weekend,” Patrick replies teasingly. 

“Try convincing your mother that’s enough,” his dad says with a wink. 

“Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes Patrick, why don’t you go upstairs and get yourself settled,” his mom says from the kitchen. 

Patrick walks upstairs to his room, opening the door and throwing himself onto his bed. He lets out a big sigh, closing his eyes and enjoying the quiet. He took his last final earlier that day, wrapping up his first semester of college nicely. 

Due to being busy with papers and exams, Patrick hadn’t come back home in three weeks, not wanting to fall behind on his work. But he bolts up from bed, walking over to his closet and pulling out an old hoodie. He goes back downstairs, pulling it over his head and walking out his back door. There’s something he’s wanted to do every day for the last three weeks.

“I’ll be outside!” He shouts on his way out, catching a glimpse of a knowing smile on his mother’s lips. 

He burrows his hands into his pockets as the cold winter air bites at his skin. The ground crunches underneath his feet as he walks over to the ladder of his treehouse, hoisting himself up and climbing in. He swings his legs out of the opening, as he’s done so many times and leans against the wooden wall, closing his eyes and waits. 

When he opens them back up, he sees David smiling back at him. Patrick feels his body settle, a smile lighting up his face. 

The first time it happened was a week after David left for New York. Patrick had been laying on his bed, feeling especially sorry for himself when he decided he to go outside for some fresh air. He climbed up to his treehouse, sitting there with his eyes closed when David suddenly appeared in front of him. He was wearing the same clothes he wore the first time he came up there with Patrick, his crooked grin and all. 

Patrick lost his breath, his hands trembling as he took David in. He reached his hand out to touch him, missing him so much. But the moment Patrick reached forward, David vanished, the desperate coil of dread back in his stomach. 

The next time it happened, Patrick made sure to keep his hands by his side. 

Since then, Patrick would climb up any chance he had, just sitting there and David would appear. Sometimes Patrick would talk to him, tell him about his day, about how much he misses him. 

When he left for school, he made sure to come home every weekend, not being able to stay away for too long. 

Patrick knows it isn’t healthy to conjure up this hallucination so often. But he can’t bring himself to stop. Patrick doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop. 

They sit together in silence, the chilly winter wind passing over Patrick’s skin. 

“You’re coming home,” Patrick whispers. David smiles back at him, his eyes crinkling at the sides. 

“I miss you,” Patrick says, as he’s said a hundred times. 

David looks away, a beautiful blush on his face. Patrick sits there in silence until he’s called for dinner.

“Patrick,” his mother calls from the house. “Dinner’s ready!”

Patrick looks at David, his hand twitching to reach out. 

“I love you."

With one last smile, David is gone and Patrick goes back down and into his house. 

* * *

David doesn’t know how he managed to only bring two suitcases with him, but he’s grateful for his new powers of restraint as he waits outside of the terminal in the cold winter air. Stevie is fifteen minutes late, and if he weren’t so happy to see her, he would be more upset. 

David almost didn’t come home until his mother phoned him up a week ago, doing what she did best and guilting him incessantly. 

_“All I’m saying dear is that it might be nice to see my son every once and a while.”_

_“You saw me last month when you came to New York. Not to visit me, might I add.”_

_“It’s not my fault Kristoff suddenly changed the locale of our photoshoot so last minute, David! And I was able to fit you into my bustling schedule in the end.”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_“Oh David, please consider it. You know how much the holidays mean to your father. He simply refuses to mount our Christmas tree unless you confirm your arrival.”_

_“He’s Jewish!”_

It didn’t take much after that for David to be convinced to come back home because Alexis kept texting him various holiday themed emojis and his dad a sad face emoji before he threw his hands up in surrender. 

So here he was, waiting for his best friend to pick him up, who was now seventeen minutes late. He finally spots her car in the distance, his hands gripping the handles of his luggage as he moves forward to meet her. Stevie exits her car and David lets go of his suitcases just in time for him to wrap his arms around Stevie as she launches her body towards him. He burrows his head into her shoulder, feeling the tears starting to form in his eyes. They pull away after a minute, both with matching grins on their faces. 

“You’re late,” David says with a pout. 

Stevie rolls her eyes at him. “I can’t control traffic, David. Everyone is coming home for the holidays.”

“I’ve been shivering in my Balenciaga out here.”

“Not my fault you’re not wearing winter appropriate clothing,” gesturing towards David’s hoodie and leather jacket combo.

“I couldn’t leave my apartment in a parka, Stevie. I would have been eaten alive.”

* * *

The drive to David’s house is fairly easy, Stevie managing to bypass most of the traffic by taking the backroads. It gives them more time to chat in the car. 

“It’s the best Indian food I’ve ever had, the naan was to die for. I’m going to take you there when you come to visit,” David says taking a bite from the licorice Stevie bought for him. 

“David, we have history with curry. I don’t know if that’s a great idea.”

“Soup dumplings then. They’re really good, as long as you know how to eat them. I took a bite from one the first time I got them and suffered horrid third degree burns. They were delicious though.”

Stevie grins from the driver’s side, shaking her head at David. “New York seems to be treating you well.”

“It’s fun. Very stimulating,” David replies. But he quietly adds, “It’s nice to be home though.”

Stevie smiles wider.

* * *

David makes it up to his room twenty minutes after Stevie drops him off because his family bombarded him at the door, trapping him downstairs with their fluttering. His mother dramatically draped herself over David, his father kept patting him on the back saying how proud he was, and Alexis was jumping up and down clapping her hands, saying, “Yay David,” over and over again.

David feels nice knowing his family seem to have genuinely missed him. But David wants nothing more than to change out of his clothes into sweats, the flight having been long and tiring. He collapses onto his bed, taking deep breaths into his nose, spreading his body out on his king sized bed. 

He feels himself drifting off into sleep when Alexis, as usual, storms into the room without knocking. 

“David,” she says launching her body onto his bed, jostling David. He grunts in annoyance and keeps his eyes closed. “Mom said dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Why is mom saying that and not Adelina?” David asks wiggling his body deeper into his bed. 

“Because mom’s cooking.”

David’s eyes snap open and he turns his head towards Alexis quickly. “What?”

“Mom’s cooking,” Alexis repeats with a grin. “She said she wanted to do something special for you.”

David feels himself starting to get choked up, this unfamiliar emotional roller coasting becoming too overwhelming for him. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“Oh it’s terrible, she made something last night for practice. Adelina snuck dad and me little buckets under our seats. I had to ask Ted to get me a salad afterwards.”

“Oh, how is Ted, Alexis?” David asks with a grin. 

Alexis tips her nose up and closes her eyes. “Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Yeah. It’s good, like really good.”

“Okay.”

“Like _really_ good-”

“Okay, that’s enough information.”

“What’s it like?” Alexis asks settling into David’s bed, resting her head on her hands. 

“What?”

“New York.”

“Alexis, you’ve been to New York.”

“Okay David, but like what’s it like _being_ there?”

“It’s nice,” David says with a sigh. “It’s loud and busy, but it’s exciting.”

“Is it everything you expected?”

David thinks about the delicious food he eats every day, the incredible art, and the view of the East River from his apartment on the Upper East Side. 

“Yeah, it is.”

“Is it everything you wanted?”

David thinks about Patrick.

“No, it’s not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how art school works lmao If anyone does and can offer notes on that, I'll take them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst Warning. I'm very sorry (I'm not)

David collapses onto his bed after finally being able to escape what he considers the most bizarre dinner of his life. His mother did in fact cook like Alexis said, a large pot of chicken pot pie. Or what David think was supposed to be chicken pot pie. He really couldn’t tell, and the faces of his dad and Alexis didn’t help solve the mystery either. But they ate their dinner singing their praises. The last person you wanted to cross at the dinner table was Moira Rose. 

He wants to sleep forever, but knows if he doesn’t unpack all of his sweaters soon, they’ll be wrinkled and creased and nothing is worse than a creased Prada. 

He hauls himself up from his bed and lugs his suitcases into the closet, flinging them open and carefully putting his clothes away. David brought home a good chunk of his wardrobe, wanting to swap out some pieces with what he has at home. 

He finishes unpacking, stowing away his suitcases and sitting down in the middle of his closet surrounded by his clothes. He does this sometimes, being surrounded by beautiful things usually helping to take the edge off. 

David chews on his bottom lip and crawls on his knees to the farthest wall of his closet housing his formal wear and avant garde pieces set aside for only special occasions. He reaches his hand and grips a small shoebox. He flips it open and gingerly touches everything that is inside. 

His most precious items are kept in here. Movie tickets from his first date with Stevie when that was a thing, a program to his first Broadway show when he was nine, a picture of him and his family at the beach when he was six. And buried all the way at the bottom is the beautiful leather notebook Patrick had gifted him, along the with blue labradorite necklace he had gotten at the carnival. 

He takes the necklace in his palm, his thumb rubbing against the smooth stones. He then reaches for the notebook, tracing the spine with one finger, stroking it carefully as his emotions wrap him up. 

He opens its pages, looking through his various notes and sketches. He comes across a sketch of Patrick, his eyes closed as he sleeps on David’s bed. He reads the words of his thoughts and wishes, his fears, his ideas. He only got about halfway through before banishing it into the box after the carnival. He hasn’t touched it since. 

David flips through the pages, losing himself in his thoughts, when he reaches the last page before he stopped writing in it. It was a list of things he wanted to do that summer. Eating ice cream, driving with the windows open, swimming in his pool, but at the top of his list is “picnics with Patrick”. 

David falls backwards dramatically, dropping the notebook and laying himself on the carpeted floor, closing his eyes. He lets out a groan, rubbing his eyes with his hands. He blindly reaches for the notebook with his hand, lifting it up so he can look at the list again, but his eyes fall on a blank page.

Except for a small bit of writing on the upper right hand corner. 

David zeroes in on what’s written on the page, his eyes unfocusing as everything in his head rushes around him. 

_I love you._

He didn’t write that. David would never write that. 

He bolts up as he stares down at the page, blinking dumbly at it. 

It’s Patrick’s handwriting. Patrick wrote _I love you_. 

David doesn’t remember much else before he passes out in the middle of his closet because he is his mother’s son after all.

* * *

“David. David. David!”

David’s eyes snap open and he sees Stevie staring down at him. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” She asks. 

David blinks up at her in confusion. “Huh?”

“I found you passed out here. I’ve been kicking you for five minutes.”

“Who the fuck kicks someone who’s passed out?”

Stevie shrugs her shoulders and plops down next to David’s head. “Who passes out in the middle of their closet?”

David rolls his eyes when he suddenly remembers why he passed out. He quickly reaches for the notebook, sitting up and flipping through the pages quickly. When he finds the page he thrusts it at Stevie’s face. 

“Look at this,” he says. Stevie takes the notebook and looks at it, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion before releasing in realization. 

“Oh,” she says. 

“Yeah, _oh._ As in _oh fucking no_!”

“David, calm down-”

“How am I supposed to feel _calm_ about that?” He asks wildly, flailing his arms every which way. 

“You can’t be serious,” Stevie says deadpanned. 

“Serious about what?”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“That Patrick loves you.”

David stops flailing. “ _What?_ ”

Stevie lets out a frustrated noise, rubbing her forehead. “David, I know you’re dense-”

“ _Excuse me!_ ”

“Emotionally! Emotionally dense!” Stevie takes a deep breath. “David, Patrick loves you.”

David stares at her with his mouth gaping like a fish. “What?”

“Trust me, I’m questioning it myself.” David shoots her a deadly glare. “But he does.”

“How do you know? I know you guys don’t talk about me.” Stevie shifts uncomfortably. “ _Right Stevie?_ ”

“We don’t, I promise. But,” she says biting her lip. “It’s obvious that he thinks about you a lot."

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, first of all, he took Art History with me. And I know for a fact that he’s taking Impressionism in the 19th Century next semester.”

David blinks at her, thinking to himself that that is his favorite period in art history. 

“He cuts the crusts off of all of his sandwiches. He carries around a bottle of cuticle oil for his hands. He also hums a lot of Mariah when he thinks no one is listening.”

David blinks at her even more. “That, that doesn’t mean anything.”

Stevie gives him a small smile, sighing deeply. “He stares at you a lot."

“What?” David asks confused. 

“He has a picture of you on his phone. He thinks he’s being slick about it, looking at it when no one is paying attention. But I found him staring at it once when we were in his room. I woke up from my nap and I watched him staring at it at his desk with the dumbest smile on his face.”

David is quiet. He doesn’t know what to say. Because David does the same thing. 

The nights when he’s feeling especially lonely in New York, David will go into the locked folder in his phone and stare at the one picture of Patrick he allowed himself to keep. It’s Patrick on his bed playing his guitar, strumming quietly while David was studying at his desk. His eyes are closed, his fingers lazily plucking at the strings, and he looked so at peace David needed to take a picture. At the sound of the camera flash, Patrick opened his eyes and looked at David, his lips spreading into a smile. He set his guitar aside and reached his hand out to David who immediately stood up to take it. Patrick pulled David down and kissed him sweetly, humming against David’s lips, so, so happy. 

David stares down at his hands as he feels his eyes welling with tears. 

“We need to get out of here,” David says standing up and dusting off his pants. “Let’s go get ice cream.”

“Yes, let’s go get ice cream at nine o’clock at night in December."

“You say it like it’s weird.”

* * *

Patrick is finishing up the dishes when he gets a text message from Adam, one of the members of the Young Entrepreneurs club at school. It’s a reminder of Jeremy’s party later that night in Elmdale, the promise of it being a “ _total rager_ ” written in text. 

Patrick had decided the bypass the party, not wanting to go without Stevie. He rarely attended these parties without her, Stevie being the perfect date. She had no filter and was the beer pong champion, you couldn’t beat that. 

But knowing Stevie was currently hanging out with David changed things. Now Patrick desperately needed a distraction. That distraction in the form of a mindless frat party seemed like a good idea.

“Mom, dad, I’m heading out,” Patrick calls out pulling on his winter coat. 

“Where are you going sweetheart?” His mom asks from the living room. 

“A small party in Elmdale. I won’t be out that late.”

“Make smart choices son,” his dad says with a pointed look. 

Patrick grins back. “No worries, it should be a fairly tame night.”

* * *

“This isn’t helping,” David says miserably after he took his last bite of his and Stevie’s ice cream.

He and Stevie are sitting in her car in the empty parking lot of the grocery store.

“Do you need another pint?”

“No, I need a drink.”

“I’m out of wine at my house.”

“And all the liquor at my house is in lockdown until the Christmas party.”

Stevie sighs and starts her car. “I have a place.”

* * *

Patrick is getting himself another beer when he hears Stevie’s voice in the other room. He made it to the party an hour ago, someone slapping a beer in his hand as soon as he walked through the door. He chatted with a couple of other people in the entrepreneur club, wincing whenever he heard the frat chanting loudly near the beer keg. It was a normal, college frat party. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

But Stevie’s here now, which makes it slightly better.

He picks up another beer and heads into the room, her name on his lips. “Stevie, I thought you weren’t coming-”

Patrick stops dead in his tracks because standing in the middle of the messy living room is David Rose. He suddenly feels very dizzy, stumbling back a little as the wind is knocked out of him. Their eyes meet in shock, neither of them moving.

“Fuck.”

* * *

“Fuck.”

Stevie mutters under her breath next to David, rubbing her hand into her forehead. He wants to yell at her, or at anyone because his body is screaming at the fact that he’s in the same room with Patrick because this is way too soon given what he knows now. After a moment of staring at each other awkwardly, Patrick turns on his heel and quickly walks out. 

David watches him go. _Fuck._

“You didn’t tell me he would be here,” he hisses at Stevie. 

“He told me he wasn’t coming!” She replies defensively. “I’ll be right back.”

“ _Where are you going?!_ ”

“To talk to Patrick,” she says walking away. “I should be paid to keep up with you two.”

David huffs annoyed, crossing his arms protectively across his chest. 

“Hey,” a random townie says sidling up to him. “Want a hit?”

He’s holding up a suspiciously rolled joint. A distraction. “Fine,” David says plucking it off his fingers. 

* * *

Patrick is storming out of the house, his hands shaking, his body buzzing with energy. 

David is here. David is here. David is _here_. 

Patrick paces the front lawn, wringing his hands together. What is he supposed to do? Ignore David? Pretend like he’s not here? That’s impossible for him to do. 

He’s gripping his head when he sees Stevie coming out of the house. 

“I’m sorry, I honestly wouldn’t have brought him here if I knew you were here too.”

“Why did you bring him here?”

“He said he needed a drink after finding out-” Stevie quickly stops herself, shutting her lips tightly. 

“Finding out what, Stevie?” Patrick asks. 

“Nothing, nothing important now. Look, I’ll take him home. He didn’t really want to come, I was just _trying_ to be a good friend and giving him a distraction.”

“This is not the right place to bring someone looking for a distraction.”

“Oh,” Stevie says crossing her arms. “Then why are you here?”

Patrick opens his mouth and sputters indignantly. “T-This isn’t about me! This is about _him_ and why _you_ brought him here.”

Stevie purses her lips and cocks her head to the side. “You know what, we’re not leaving. We’re going to stay right here because I need a drink after having to deal with you two numbskulls.” And with that she turns on her heel and walks back into the house. 

“Stevie! You can’t leave him here!” But she ignores him and continues on. Patrick lets out a frustrated noise and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

He should leave. He only had one beer, he was perfectly fine to drive back home. He should leave. 

But he doesn’t want to. 

Because for the first time in six months, David Rose was within reach. 

No, he couldn’t leave, not yet. Not without saying at least one thing to him. 

Patrick imagined what he would say to David if he ever got the chance to talk to him again. 

_I miss you. I think about you every day. I love you._

But they all get lost in his throat now that David is so close to him. 

Patrick groans loudly and walks back into the house, looking for David. He walks through the various rooms, weaving through bodies, looking for the dark head of hair. 

He walks upstairs when he can’t find David and blinks his eyes quickly through the thick fog of smoke. He follows the smoke to one of the bedrooms and finds a group of people sitting in a circle passing a joint. In that circle is David Rose, lolling his head back and forth with a smile on his face. 

_Dammit._

* * *

David feels good. He feels _really_ good. Like so, so good. 

“Stevie’s my best friend,” David says to the boy next to him. 

“She’s hot.”

“Don’t even think about it, she’s out of your league,” David says with a smile. “Pass that to me.”

He inhales deeply and lets the smoke leave his lips lazily. When the smoke clears, he sees Patrick standing in front of him and David’s haze begins to wear off. 

He’s wearing the same, mid-range denim and an old grey hoodie and a pair of black sneakers. He’s still incredibly hot and that makes David feel angry inside. 

_Dammit, why do you still look so good, it’s not fair._

“David,” Patrick says. “What are you doing?”

“Making friends,” David replies raising his nose in the air. “These people have been very nice to me.”

“Yeah, we’re friends,” the boy next to him says, slinging an arm around David’s shoulders. David quickly pushes him off. “Ew, don’t touch me, we’re not actually friends.”

“David, let’s go downstairs and get you some water.”

“Um, I think I’m perfectly fine up here.”

“Hey, who wants some poppers?”

“Yeah, nope never mind I am leaving,” David says standing up and carefully walking over everyone. “Excuse me, this has been great, I do not want to be here for whatever is going to happen.”

David brushes past Patrick and makes his way back downstairs. 

“David,” Patrick says following him. “David, slow down-”

“Nope, I have nothing to say to you.”

“David, can you just fucking listen to me!” Patrick shouts. David turns around and looks at him in shock. Patrick doesn’t back down though, keeping himself steady. 

David’s eyes narrow before he growls out, “Fine, you want to do this? Let’s fucking do this.” He storms past Patrick and walks out the front door to the lawn. No one else is outside, it being too cold for anyone to hang about. He crosses his arms and taps his foot, his mind still a little hazy, but really just _very_ annoyed.

“Well, have at it.”

“Let me just get you some water-”

“I’m high Patrick, not dehydrated,” David responds petulantly.

Patrick takes a deep breath and tips his head up towards the sky, but says nothing.

“I believe you had something to say?” David says cocking his eyebrow. David knows he’s being a jerk, but his walls are up. He can’t help that he’s feeling defensive, the pain of their break up is still very fresh.

Patrick looks David in the eyes and a lump forms in David’s throat. He sees pain in Patrick too.

“It’s been six months,” Patrick says softly. “And I think we still have some unfinished business.”

David swallows thickly and looks away. “Yes, it seems like we do.”

The silence grows thick between them, neither of them knowing what to say. 

David imagined what he would say to Patrick if he ever got the chance to talk to him again.

_I miss you. I think about you every day._

“You came back,” Patrick says. 

David nods stiffly. “Yeah, well, it was either come back for a little bit or let my family guilt trip me to the grave. I also came back for Stevie.”

“Stevie misses you. She doesn’t say it out loud, but I know she does.”

David scoffs and looks away, his eyes growing wet. “I know,” he responds, thinking about his own loneliness that consumes him so much that it hurts. 

“Are you mad that we’re friends?”

“No,” David replies because it’s true. He may have been at first, but David can’t deny that Patrick has been a good friend to her. “I’m glad she has you.”

Patrick nods. “She saved me, in a way. After, after you left. We helped each other.”

“Why would you need saving? I’m just a boy you fooled around with in high school,” David says bitterly. Suddenly Patrick’s eyes darken and he takes three steps towards David. 

“David, you know you were more than that-”

“Do I? Because I recall being someone’s _bet_. For a spot on the baseball team right?”

Patrick clenches his jaw tightly. “You don’t understand-”

“I think it was all pretty clear Patrick,” David spits out, his voice wavering. “You used me. I-I gave you, we-” David can’t finish as he chokes down a sob. 

“David, I have spent every day for the last six months thinking about you. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about how I could have changed things before they were too late. I’m sorry I hurt you. I can’t tell you sorry enough. But,” Patrick says taking in a deep breath. “I don’t regret doing it.”

“What?” David asks his voice cracking. 

“I don’t regret it, David. Because it lead me to you.” Patrick lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “If Brock hadn’t pushed me, I don’t think I would have been able to go after you the way I did. I know it’s fucked up, but David it was worth it if it meant being with you.”

David feels tears prickling in his eyes, letting Patrick’s words sink in. 

“All of it was real for me,” Patrick says softly taking another step towards David. “I kept wondering why I felt the way I did all the time, like I was defective. Then I met you, and everything changed. You make me feel right, David.”

David chokes out a sob, turning his head away, unable to look Patrick in the eyes. 

“Did you write I love you in my notebook?” David asks, his voice shaking.

Patrick is silent, so David turns his head back to look at him. He expects Patrick to look shocked or confused. But instead he looks calm. 

“Yes,” he says, not faltering.

David’s vision spins, his head swimming. 

_He loves me._

David’s hands shake.

_He loves me._

David’s heart bursts.

_He loves me._

“Why,” he chokes out. 

“It’s my turn to ask a question,” Patrick answers stubbornly. David sets his jaw and lets out a frustrated noise from the back of his throat.

Patrick stares into his eyes fiercely and David wants to cower away. 

“I love you David Rose,” he says in a steady voice. “Do you love me?”

David sucks in a breath, his eyes going wide. 

_Do you love me?_

David looks at Patrick, hope shinning in his eyes, looking at David as if he’s the only thing that exists. He feels the words that tried to form back during the night of prom forming in his chest, taking shape clearly inside of David.

_I love you._

And David feels something releasing inside of him, a joy he’s never experienced before. He feels his body begin to hum, his body lighting up. He wants to say the words out loud, let himself experience true, unbridled joy in knowing he can love a person so fiercely.

But David Rose is selfish. And scared.

So he breaks the rules and lies.

“No,” David says feeling his heart rip apart. 

He watches Patrick break in front of him and something in David dies with him. Neither of them say nothing, David’s rejection hanging in the frigid air between them. 

“Okay,” he says softly. He takes in David for a moment longer, as if to remember his face one more time, before he turns around and walks away.

David wants to call out to him, but the words die in his throat. David feels his knees buckle, his eyes stinging with tears. 

_No, wait. Stay. Please, stay._

* * *

Patrick doesn’t feel anything on the walk back to his car. He doesn’t feel cold. He doesn’t feel tired. He feels nothing. 

He feels nothing as he starts the car engine. He feels nothing as he drives out of Elmdale. He feels nothing as he pulls up the driveway of his parents house. 

He thinks he might be okay. 

Patrick rubs his face with his hands, sighing deeply. That’s when he notices his face is wet. And the tears don’t stop, even as Patrick is gasping for air. 

So this is what it feels like? To have your heart shattered?

Patrick had no idea. 

Patrick is not okay. 

* * *

David stares ahead of him as he drives Stevie’s car to his house. Stevie is passed out in the passenger’s seat, David finding her doing a keg stand after Patrick left. It didn’t take much to get her in the car. 

He grips the steering wheel, his eyes wide and wet with unshed tears. They drive under the street lights, the orange glow reflecting on the windshield. 

_I love you David Rose. Do you love me?_

What would have happened if he had told the truth? If he told Patrick that he loved him? Would they be together now? Would they continue on where they left off?

David feels numb at the thought, his body at war with itself. 

When he pulls up his driveway, David turns off the ignition and leans back into the seat, his eyes staring outward.

_I love you David Rose. Do you love me?_

David groans and leans his forehead on the steering wheel, squeezing his eyes tightly as his head begins to pound painfully. 

“Where are we,” Stevie murmurs from her seat, lolling her head back and forth.

“My house,” David croaks out, still keeping his head down. 

“Why?”

“You’re sleeping over tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because I just told Patrick that I don’t love him.”

Stevie is quiet in her seat. 

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is what started it all, specifically "I love you David Rose, do you love me?"
> 
> I'd like to take this moment to thank you all for a truly wonderful couple of months! I'm so happy to have found this show and fandom. What a wonderful way to cap off the decade. Have a beautiful New Year everyone!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's still angsty y'all
> 
> Stay hydrated

Patrick lays in his bed, staring at his ceiling as he replays the night in his head. 

_I love you David Rose. Do you love me?_

_No._

Patrick spent the last six months trying to mend his broken heart, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop hoping for a chance to fix things with David. He would have done just about anything to get him back if he knew that there was still something worth saving. 

But David let him know that there was nothing now. 

David Rose didn’t love him. 

Patrick presses his palms into his eyes when he feels them growing wet again. 

What now? What do you do when someone you love doesn’t love you back?

Patrick knows what he has to do in reality, but it feels impossible for him to try to move on from David. 

But he has to try at least. 

Patrick gathers the small box of keepsakes that remind him of David that sits on his desk and buries it deep in his closet. A copy of _13 going on 30_ , unfinished songs he wrote, sketches that David threw away that Patrick was able to swipe when he wasn’t looking. He pushes the box as far back as he can in his closet, next to the canvas David left behind. 

Next he unlocks his phone and deletes every photo he has of David. With every click his heart jumps, his fingers shaking. He gets to the last photo, his favorite photo, and hesitates. 

It was taken a week after David had called Patrick his boyfriend. They were at David’s house in the movie theater watching _Fight Club_ when David dozed off with his head in Patrick’s lap. Patrick was weaving his fingers through his hair, slightly scratching his nails against his scalp when he heard a tiny snore from David. When he looked down, David’s eyes were closed, his dark lashes fanning against his cheeks, his mouth slightly parted, his breathing evening out. Patrick traced David’s face with his fingers, etching David’s face into his brain, memorizing every tiny detail. 

_“You’re so pretty,”_ Patrick had whispered in awe. As if he heard him, David’s mouth quirked up, a tiny smile lighting up his face. 

As carefully as he could without jostling David, he took out his phone and took a picture of him, wanting to keep with moment for just a little while longer. 

Now Patrick looks at the picture, his body aching for that moment again, wanting it back. He thumbs over the picture, staring down at it, needing just a little more time with David. Just one more minute. 

Patrick doesn’t know how much time passes by before his finger finally deletes the image, the last bit of his soul leaving too. 

Patrick sits on his bed when he’s done, burying his head in his hands. He feels trapped and claustrophobic, and his body screams for him to walk outside to his treehouse. 

But waiting in the treehouse is the memory of David, his crooked grin smiling shyly. Patrick thinks that’ll be the hardest to walk away from. So he stays in his room until his body can’t stay up any longer, exhaustion taking over. 

He wonders if there will ever come a time when he doesn’t think of David anymore. The thought terrifies him. 

* * *

David is laying in bed until the sun rises the next day, sleep eluding him cruelly. Stevie is snoring lightly beside him, her hair messily over her face, a bit of drool dribbling out of the side of her mouth. David desperately wants to wake her up so they can keep talking about last night, but David kept her up until three. He knows he should let her sleep more. 

He gets himself out of bed and pads across the room to his bathroom. He splashes cold water on his face and examines the dark circles under his eyes, mentally planning out his skin care regime to help combat them.

When he emerges from the bathroom, Stevie is still sleeping, lying on her stomach as she holds one of his pillows close to her. It’s obvious she’ll be sleeping for at least another hour. 

With a sigh David grabs his robe and walks out of the room, making his way to the kitchen for breakfast.

Coffee. David needs coffee.

No one is in the kitchen yet much to David’s relief and he makes his cup, sipping the bitter warmth and feeling his body perking up just a little bit. 

It’s very early in the morning and only a few members of the staff are awake. His parent’s Christmas party is in two days and David knows that’s when the chaos will really begin. He wonders if Stevie will mind if he crashes with her. David knows there is no part of him that will be able to handle an extravagant affair like that. 

David makes a second cup for Stevie and makes his way back up to his room, carefully nudging the door open with his shoulder. 

Stevie is awake and sitting up on his bed, her back against the headboard as she stares forward with a dazed look on her face. 

“I don’t know how I got that drunk that quickly,” she mumbles when David hands her her cup. 

“It was honestly very impressive.”

“I never want to drink again.”

“We both know that’s a lie.”

“I just needed to say it to make myself feel better,” she replies taking a deep sip of her coffee and humming lowly. “You okay?”

“No,” David answers truthfully. “I feel like an emotional landmine right now if I’m being completely honest.”

“I told you Patrick loved you.”

“I know, I just didn’t know _I_ loved _him_.”

“You realized last night?”

“Right after he said it. Everything just clicked into place. Like I was always meant to love him.”

“Then why am I the one in your bed?”

David sighs and places his empty mug on his nightstand. “I’m scared, Stevie.”

“I know.”

“He could hurt me again. I barely made it out the first time. I don’t know what I would do when it happens again.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“He lied to me. Made a bet to get me to be his boyfriend for a stupid sport. I went through every moment with him in my head for months wondering what was real and what wasn’t.”

“Look,” Stevie says also putting down her mug. “What Patrick did was wrong, very, very wrong. He shouldn’t have used you like that. But we both know it’s pretty clear his feelings were also true and honest.”

David bits his lip and looks away, fresh tears gathering in his eyes. 

“He loves you David,” Stevie says gently. “He’s an idiot. But God, he loves you.”

David shakes his head and blinks his tears away. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” David whispers. “I told him I don’t love him. It’s done.”

Stevie shakes her head and gets up from his bed. “I wonder if you’re every going to let yourself be happy, David.”

Stevie slips on her shoes and grabs her coat and is gone, leaving David alone in his room. 

* * *

Christmas is a simple affair at the Brewer household. The morning is spent with just Patrick and his parents, exchanging gifts, sipping on hot chocolate, and watching a replay of a hockey match. It’s quiet and cozy, a stark contrast to what waits for them later that night at his uncle’s house, every Brewer from every corner crammed into one home. Patrick sits on the floor playing with his new winter vest absentmindedly when his mom brushes her hand against his head. 

“Sweetheart, everything okay?” She asks worriedly. 

“Yeah, mom. I’m fine,” Patrick replies distracted. 

His mom furrows her eyebrows at him, but doesn’t push any further, sharing a look with his dad. 

“Son, your mom and I were thinking, maybe we should skip out on your uncle’s Christmas party tonight,” his dad says from the couch. 

“What?” Patrick asks snapping his head up to look at him. 

“We thought it might be nice to stay in, just the three of us tonight. I can make us your favorite soup,” his mom says with a smile. 

Patrick stares down at his lap, playing with the zipper on the vest. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Patrick replies quietly. 

“I think it’ll be best for all of us. Besides, this way we don’t have to pretend to enjoy you Aunt Alice’s special eggnog,” his mom says with a wink. 

“I’m telling you, she puts mouthwash in it,” his dad mutters, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. 

Patrick cracks a smile, feeling grateful for his parents. “Thanks,” he says softly with a smile. 

“You can thank us by shoveling the driveway,” his dad says standing up and clapping a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “You can wear that new vest you’re so fond of now.”

Patrick groans as his mom snickers behind her cup. But Patrick feels himself grin in spite of himself. 

* * *

“No, no, the ice sculptures must be placed in the foyer. The guests are to be greeted by them. Also, please tell Jacques to eliminate the gremolata from the duck confit crostini. We don’t need the malodorous stench of garlic emanating from the mouths of our guests.”

The bustle of bodies moving quickly and efficiently can be heard from every corner of the mansion, countless staff members working hard to set up for the Christmas party tonight. David has been able to avoid his family because of all the chaos, keeping to himself and his wallowing thoughts. 

He walks quickly to his room with a plate of food he was able to swipe from the kitchen when his father spots him. 

“David,” his dad says walking quickly towards him. “Your mother was looking for you earlier. She wants to talk to you about tonight-”

David groans loudly, throwing his head back. “Dad, I know we do it every year, but I really don’t think I’m up to perform tonight-”

“David, what is this I hear about you denying tonight’s performance?” His mother says magically appearing next to his father. “I must tell you this would be completely unacceptable under equity contracts.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not in the Actor’s Equity Association,” he snaps at her. “I just don’t feel well-”

David doesn’t have to continue before his mother is clutching her pearls and taking five large steps away from him, pressing herself very dramatically against the wall. 

“Y-you’re ill? David, how is this possible?”

“It’s the winter mother,” David responds deadpanned. “It’s completely probable for me to catch a cold.”

“Oh, David,” his mothers says from her spot on the wall. “We cannot take the risk. You must be separated in order to reduce risk of spreading your malady.”

“Moira, I’m sure it’s nothing serious-“

“We have to call Dr. Callahan. David, you could be _dying!_ ”

“Okay, that’s a little melodramatic-”

“I must remove myself from your infectious vicinity, David. I’ll send Adelina up with your dinner later tonight. But I think it best you stay quarantined in your bedroom.”

“That’s perfectly fine with me,” David says before turning on his foot and walking into his bedroom, his cheese plate still in his hand.

He sets his plate down on his desk and reaches for his phone, pressing Stevie’s number. When she doesn’t pick up, he calls the motel instead. 

“Schitt’s Creek Motel, how can I help you,” Stevie answers monotonously.

“You must really be raking in the customers today,” David says with a grin. 

“I don’t know what’s sadder. The fact that I’m working on Christmas or the fact that we have guests spending Christmas here.”

“How long are you there until today?”

“Just until 3.”

“Well, I was able to get out of being at my parent’s Christmas party tonight. Do you want to come over and watch _Love Actually_ with me?”

“Depends, will you be crying?”

“Yes.”

“Will there be wine?”

“I can swipe a vintage cabernet from 1983.”

“I’ll be there by 3:30.” Stevie hangs up the phone before David can say anything else, so he settles in his bed with his cheese plate and laptop open to watch Downton Abbey. He’s halfway through the episode when Alexis storms into his room. 

“David, dad told me you were sick, you poor thing,” she says sitting on his bed. 

“Yeah, just drenched with germs,” David says popping a cheddar cube into his mouth. 

“Well, you will be missed at the party. But honestly, speaking of feeling sick, I also have not been feeling too well.”

David cocks an eyebrow at her. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve had this like, cough, for the last few days?” Alexis coughs, but it’s meek and obviously fake. 

“You don’t want to go to the party either do you?”

“No,” Alexis says dropping the act. “I really don’t. But dad won’t believe me. So like, can you cough on me or something?”  
  
“Alexis, I’m not actually sick either.”

“Ugh, David! Of course you get to lie about being sick first. Now I’m stuck going to the party tonight,” she says stomping her foot.

“Why don’t you want to go the party?”

Alexis looks down and starts playing with the hem of her sweater and mumbles something under her breath. 

“What?”

“Ugh, Ted won’t be there!” Alexis crosses her arms and pouts. “He’s away at his grandma’s house for Christmas, and I don’t want to be at the party without him.”

David regards her carefully. “You really like him.”

Alexis huffs and looks away, her cheeks red. “Oh my God, are you in love with him?”

“Ew, David…yes.”

David’s mouth drops. “How is your love life better than mine?”

“I don’t know, David. Maybe because I lean in to love?”

“Ew,” David says crinkling his nose with disgust. “Never say that again.”

“Ugh, David just help me get out of going to tonight’s party!”

“Fine,” David says standing up. He walks to the door and opens it. “Mom! Alexis is sick too!”

Suddenly, Moira’s screaming can be heard echoing in the mansion and David closes his door to cut the noise off. “You’re mistake was going to dad and not mom.”

* * *

“Okay, who wants dessert?” Patrick’s mom asks clapping her hands together. “Your aunt dropped off a pie earlier today.”

“Thanks for dinner mom,” Patrick says with a grateful smile. 

“Of course, my sweet boy,” his moms says kissing his cheek on her way into the kitchen. Patrick plays with his fork letting his mind wander. 

“Penny for your thoughts, son?” His dad asks. Patrick snaps out of his thoughts and turns his head towards his dad. “Huh?”

His dad grins at him before his face settles into worry. “Patrick, you’ve been distracted the last couple of days. Is everything okay?”

Patrick sighs deeply, looking down at his empty bowl. “I saw David the other day.”

“Oh,” his dad says surprised and sitting up a little straighter. “How is David?”

“The same,” Patrick replies with smile before it quickly vanishes. “We talked and, um. It, it didn’t end well.”

His dad smiles sympathetically at him. “I’m sorry, Patrick.”

“Thanks. I should have expected that though,” Patrick says. “I really hurt him, dad.”

“What you did was wrong, Patrick. But you can’t spend your life apologizing for your actions.”

“I feel like I should,” Patrick mutters back. 

“Listen Patrick, you need to give it time, for him and for yourself. Everything that happened goes beyond what a couple of 18 year old kids can handle. The hard reality is that life isn’t going to wait for you to catch up.”

Patrick nods his head in understanding. “You’re right. Thanks, dad.”

His had places a reassuring hand. “I know he means a lot to you,” he says softly. “Just give it some time.” 

Patrick sucks in a breath and nods his head again. 

* * *

David is curled up in bed with Stevie and Alexis flanked on either side, _Love Actually_ playing on the large tv screen in front of them. 

“I wonder if Hugh Grant’s hair is real,” Stevie says as she puts a handful of popcorn in her mouth. 

“It is, I’ve touched it,” Alexis replies taking a sip of seltzer. 

“How did you touch Hugh Grant’s hair?”

“I was at this party in Bali and he got very drunk and kind of tumbled forward and I-”

“Shh! Your voices are unnecessary,” David snaps at them. He clutches the pillow he’s holding tighter to his body, his eyes watering. 

_God, what’s it like to be in love._

_Oh, right._

“Okay, I can’t watch this,” David says reaching for the remote and turning the movie off. 

“Ugh, David! What are we supposed to do now?” 

“I don’t know Alexis, comfort me?”

Alexis scrunches up her nose. “Um, I don’t know how to do that.”

“Here,” Stevie says thrusting a wine glass towards him. 

“This is how you do it,” David says accepting the glass. 

Alexis lifts her arm and awkwardly pats David’s back. “I’m sorry, David. It’ll be okay.”

David stares at her blankly before saying, “That was terrible, but honestly kind of made me feel good inside.”

Alexis smiles and taps his nose lightly. 

* * *

Patrick is laying in bed thinking about David as he always does, his mind racing with what he needs to do next. 

David doesn’t love him. And it’s okay. Or it’ll have to be okay. Patrick doesn’t seem to have much of a choice. 

Patrick takes a deep breath and sits up from his bed, slipping on his sneakers and his coat. 

He walks outside into his backyard, snow lightly falling from the sky. He walks to his treehouse and looks up, his heart beating rapidly.

Patrick climbs up and sits where he always sits and waits. A short moment passes before David is sitting next to him, his feet dangling, hands gripping the ledge below him. David isn’t looking at him, his eyes downcast, a frown on his face.

Patrick feels his heart constrict in his chest, his eyes desperately taking in the panes of David’s face. 

“I have to say goodbye,” Patrick whispers, his voice cracking. 

David turns his head to the side, looking away from Patrick. 

“David,” Patrick says. “Thank you.”

David turns towards him, his eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted to the side. 

“You found me,” Patrick breathes out with a small smile. “You found me when I didn’t realize I was lost.”

David smiles back at him sadly, shaking his head. 

“I don’t think I can move on from you, David,” Patrick says reaching his hand out. “But I have to try.”

David stares back at him still with that sad smile and nods his head as Patrick reaches to brush his cheek. David’s eyes shine brightly with tears. 

“I love you.”

And as a gust of cold wind brushes through the treehouse, David is gone. Patrick lets his hand drop, staring into the space where David sat. He closes his eyes tightly for a moment before swinging his legs around and crawling towards the ladder and climbing down. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his winter coat and makes his way back into the house. He casts one more glance behind him before walking in and closing the door gently behind him. 

* * *

David jolts awake to find Stevie and Alexis plastered to either side of him passed out. He checks his phone for the time, a quarter past ten. He blinks slowly and carefully dislodges himself from them, careful not to wake them. David feels his chest squeezing uncomfortably, his body restless. So he grabs his winter coat and quietly leaves his room. He can hear the party in full swing below him, the sound of laughter echoing against the marble floors. David knows he can’t walk through the party in his pajamas and makes his way towards the back stairwell that leads down into the kitchen. 

It’s loud and chaotic when David climbs down the steps, various cooks setting up trays and trays of food. In the fray, Adelina passes by him and cups his face fondly, giving him a wink before continuing on with the preparations. 

He smiles at her and makes his way out the back door into the Gardens. The Gardens is a small section of the massive property his parent’s mansion sits on. There are flowerbeds and garden boxes that are covered up for the winter, a small green hedge that encases the area, and a greenhouse tucked into the far right corner that houses some of the more delicate greenery. The Gardens is really for Adelina, a gift from his parents to her when she expressed her love of gardening one summer. She takes care of it just like she takes care of David and Alexis: with unwavering love and care. 

When he was younger, he would often help her tend to the flowers and the vegetables she grew, teaching him the importance of handling every living thing with care and kindness. He wonders if he’ll ever treat himself that way. 

The trees and bushes are decorated with fairy lights, the light snow glistening very romantically around David. It’s like a scene from his beloved romantic comedies, only David is very much alone and broken hearted. He wanders the Gardens with his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. No one is outside, all of the guests mingling inside the house most likely due to the deep chill of the winter air. But David welcomes the sting, welcomes the distraction. 

He still feels very uncomfortable though, his lungs feeling like they’re gasping for air. He walks over to one of the benches and sits down, staring blankly ahead as he tries to tamper down his anxiety. It only builds until he’s hunched over taking gasping breaths. 

His eyes are watering, and he chokes a desperate cry. “Please, _please._ ”

And suddenly he sees two feet appear in front of him. David lifts up his head weakly and smiling down at him is Patrick. 

It only happened once before. The day after David had arrived in New York, he had a panic attack that left him crumbled up on his floor, feeling so alone and now knowing what to do. Through his tears, Patrick appeared and sat next to him on the floor, sitting cross-legged and smiling at David. David didn’t dare speaking to Patrick, afraid he might let himself fall down an emotional spiral he would never be able to get out of. So they sat there quietly together. He stayed with him until David fell asleep on the floor. 

After that David made sure to never let that happen again, knowing it was unhealthy to hallucinate your ex-boyfriend when you were trying your best to move on from him. But he still remembers the calm that rushed over him when he saw him. How his heart began to beat normally again, his hands no longer shaking, his mind at ease. 

And that’s how David feels now. His chest releases, he can breathe steadily, and his mind quiets down. But there’s still a knot in his stomach that he can’t let go of. 

David blinks up at Patrick. “You’re here.”

Patrick grins at David and moves to sit next to him on the bench. David stares at him, missing him so much that it aches. “I miss you.”

Patrick smiles sadly at David. “I think about you every day.”

Patrick looks away, a blush on his cheeks. That was always one of David’s favorite things to do. Patrick always had the ability to make David’s cheeks turn red, knowing exactly what to say or what to do that made David feel seen. And David did everything he could to return the favor, to let Patrick know what it felt like to be with someone who made you feel so warm, to let him know how Patrick made David feel. 

David lets out a harsh breath. “It was all real, wasn’t it?”

Patrick looks at David and nods his head. 

“You love me,” David says broken. 

Patrick nods again, a small smile on his lips as he looks outward. David’s insides constrict, his eyes watering. He needs to say something. He needs to say the truth, just this once. 

“Patrick,” David says quietly. “I lied.”

Patrick turns towards him with a confused expression. 

Tears begin to stream down David’s face, stinging his cheeks. “That night at the party. I lied.”

Patrick turns towards David, waiting. 

David presses his lips together tightly, shaking his head as his body shivers. But he pushes through. 

“I love you.”

And the knot that was in David’s stomach releases, his body falling into place. And Patrick stares at him for a moment before his face unravels into a smile, one that David wants to see for the rest of his life. 

David lets out a laugh and reaches forward to hold him, but then Patrick is gone, David sitting alone on the bench once again, his arms reaching for air. 

David blinks and looks around quickly, trying to find him again.

David tips his head back and closes his eyes, letting the snow fall on his face. He thinks he should feel more devastated, more alone. But David feels free. 

With a smile towards the sky, he opens his eyes and stares up towards the stars. 

_I’ll stay if you ask me_ , David thinks to himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’ll be a little angsty for just a bit longer, but I promise they’ll find their way back


	15. Chapter 15

David is pulling on his winter coat when Alexis, as per usual, storms into his room. 

“Come on David, I have to be back by three and I do not want to hear you complain about missing your flight.”

“I’m coming, Alexis. I’ll be right down, I just have to grab my bag,” David says adjusting his coat in the mirror. 

“Well don’t be long,” Alexis says flicking her hair. “I have important places to be.”

“Ted can wait, Alexis. Actually, he will wait given how much he likes you,” David replies with a grimace.

Alexis rolls her eyes at him and crosses her arms. “Actually, I have to be back for a study group. I have an important test next week that I need to study for.”

David stops moving and turns towards her. “Since when have you ever cared about school?”

“Since I decided to become a total girl boss and like rule the world with my innovative thinking,” Alexis says turning her nose upward. 

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” David says sarcastically. 

“Ugh, you’re so annoying,” Alexis says turning on her heel and walking out. “I’m leaving in two minutes, with or without you.”

“That literally doesn’t make any sense Alexis because I’m the reason why you’re going to the airport!” 

David shakes his head and grabs his carry-on, taking one last look around his room. He’s about to leave when he suddenly remembers the notebook. The one Patrick gave him. It’s sitting on top of his desk and David reaches for it, his fingers stroking the leather spine.

He took it out of its place in his closet the day after Christmas, after admitting fully to himself just how in love he was with Patrick. He couldn’t bring himself to reach out to him, but he also couldn’t go another day without a piece of Patrick with him. 

David goes to the page with Patrick’s message, it falling easily now given how many times David has opened that page to stroke the letters over and over again. 

“David! I’m leaving without you!”

“Alexis, why the fuck would you just drive to the airport if not for me!” David shouts back while quickly tucking the notebook carefully into his bag. He shoulders his bag and walks out of the room, taking a piece of Patrick with him back to New York. 

* * *

“Sweetheart, are you sure you can’t come home this weekend? Uncle George was so looking forward to seeing you,” Patrick’s mom says from the other line. 

“I’m sorry mom, I have a lot of work to do this week. Maybe next weekend?” Patrick says guiltily. It’s been difficult to have this conversation week after week with his mother, hearing the disappointment in her voice every time he’s denied coming home for the weekend. But Patrick reminds himself that this is now part of his healing process, keeping a distance between himself and the painful memory of David. 

His mom sighs from the other end, “Okay, dear. I’ll call you tomorrow then. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Patrick murmurs before hanging up, rubbing his head with his fingers. He feels guilty, but knows this is for the best. He thinks. 

Unable to focus on his studying, Patrick closes his textbook and flops onto his tiny twin bed, his head pillowed by his arms. He’s about to doze off for an afternoon nap when his door is abruptly opened, Stevie walking in and dropping her bag with a loud thump. 

“Were you about to take a nap?” Stevie asks sitting on his desk chair. 

“Not anymore,” Patrick says with a huff, sitting up on his bed. “What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in class?”

“Professor cancelled,” Stevie says, propping her feet on his desk. “Thought we should go see a movie.”  
  
“I can’t,” Patrick sighs. “I have to finish my paper, I have homework for econ, and I have a club meeting tonight-”

“You’ve really filled up your schedule this semester, haven’t you?” Stevie asks with a cocked eyebrow. 

Patrick flops back down onto his bed, looking up at his ceiling blankly. “I need to do something, Stevie,” he murmurs quietly. 

They haven’t spoken about David or the party, simply falling back into the rhythm of being friends after he went back to New York. Stevie has been extra careful about mentioning David, even in passing. 

“Stretching yourself thin in order to distract yourself from your feelings isn’t going to help in the long run.”

“It’s better than waiting for nothing, especially now that I know how he really feels.”

“And how does he really feel?”

“He said he doesn’t love me, Stevie.”

“And you believed him?”

Patrick is silent, still staring up towards the ceiling. “I can’t keep waiting. I have to move forward.”

“So you’re done fighting?”

Patrick turns his head towards her, a sad smile on his face. “I know I can spend the rest of my life waiting for David, and that’s terrifying. If I don’t try now, I don’t think I ever will.”

Stevie shakes her head sadly. “He’s my best friend. But you’re my friend too. I want you to be happy.”

Patrick extends his hand out towards her, Stevie taking it gently in his hand. “I’m trying.”

* * *

Months pass by until it’s April, David opting to spend his spring break in the city to paint. He hasn’t been able to stop for the last three months, throwing himself into his art as he churns out pieces. He hasn’t left his apartment for a week, so David pushes himself out to grab a coffee around the corner at least, take in some fresh air and to stretch his muscles. 

David is reaching for his coffee order when he hears a voice behind him. 

“Well, who do we have here?”

David turns around comes face to face with Sebastien Raine and feels his inside twist uncomfortably. David has known Sebastien for years now, a budding young photographer who often times assisted in his mother’s various photoshoots, worming his way into the inner most circles of New York’s art community. He was only a few years older than David but carried an air of superiority everywhere he went. 

“Sebastien,” David says deadpanned. “Funny running into you here.”

“Yes, a brilliant coincidence,” Sebastien replies, kissing both of David’s cheeks. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Really?” David asks raising an eyebrow.

“I have an exhibit next Saturday, down in Williamsburg. I’d love for you to come.”

“And why is that, Sebastien?”

“I feel as though we haven’t really had a chance to connect, David,” Sebastien says placing a hand on David’s shoulder.

“We live such busy lives, Sebastien,” David says taking a subtle step back and dislodging his shoulder from Sebastien’s grip. 

“Well now that you’re in New York, I want to dive into your mind, David. You’ve always had such an eye for beauty. I think we can do glorious things together.”

David knows this is simply Sebastien’s way of saying he wants access into the bottomless amount of connections David has been able to collect through his parent’s network. Sebastien Raine has always been an opportunist, taking advantage of whoever he can to get what he wants, throwing away people when he’s used up their worth. 

“I’ve been so busy with classes, Sebastien. I don’t know if I’ll really have time to connect,” David replies taking a sip of his coffee. 

Sebastien purses his lips in annoyance before it quickly goes away, a charming smile adorning his face.

“Well then, do let me know if you ever change your mind, David. I’m always open to see where we can go together.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” With that, David slides his sunglasses on, and quickly makes his way out of the coffee shop, the chill of early spring biting his skin.

_Fat fucking chance._

* * *

Patrick is throwing away his empty tea cup on his way out of the cafeteria when he feels someone tapping on his shoulder. He turns around and sees a boy from his economics class standing in front of him, holding a textbook close to his chest. 

“Hi, Patrick right?”

Patrick nods, “Yeah, that’s me.”

The boy stretches his hand out, “Hi, I’m Ken. I’m a friend of Chris? You guys are in the Young Entrepreneurs club together?”

“Yeah, I know Chris,” Patrick says accepting the hand suspiciously. 

“He told me you were the person to come and talk to about getting some extra help in econ? I’m kind of struggling this semester,” Ken says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. 

Patrick grins at him. “As flattered as I am that Chris thinks I’m doing well enough to tutor anyone, but I’m really just scraping by myself. I don’t think I should be offering anyone any kind of academic advice.”

Ken lets out a deep breath, “Okay look, I’m going to be completely honest here. I really just said that as an excuse to talk to you.”

Patrick blinks at him dumbly. “Huh?”

A blush blooms on Ken’s cheeks. “I, uh, kind of noticed you since the semester began? And I was really hoping to rope you into getting coffee together under the guise of needing tutoring.”

Patrick continues to blink at him, his mind buffering loudly. 

“Are you asking me out?” Patrick asks incredulously. 

“Um, yes? Unless you don’t want me to?” Ken responds taking a step back. 

“No, wait, sorry,” Patrick rushes out. “You just caught me off guard.”

“So, is that a yes?”

Patrick’s head begins swimming with thoughts, unable to fully process what is going on here. 

_A boy just asked me out? What am I supposed to say?_

Ken is looking at Patrick expectantly. 

_Jesus, say something!_

Patrick opens his mouth the say no, when the image of David pops into his head. David and his crooked grin. 

_David._

“Okay.”

A smile stretches across Ken’s face. “Yeah?”

Patrick takes a deep breath. “Yes, sure. I’d love to get coffee.”

“Great! Meet you by the quad at six?”

“Y-yeah, that sounds good to me.”

“Awesome,” Ken says with a smile. “I’ll see you then, Patrick.” And with that he walks away, leaving Patrick staring at his back. 

_I have a date tonight. How the fuck did that happen?_

He should be excited right? This is his first real date since-

_David._

The reality of what just happened rushes through Patrick, his heart beginning to hammer against his chest. 

_Oh, God. What am I doing?_

Patrick closes his eyes and tips his head back. He doesn’t want to go on a date with anyone. But it’s been months since he’s last seen David, since he’s promised himself to try and move forward. He really hasn’t done much except ignore his feelings.

_You’re trying, remember?_

Yes, trying. Trying to move on. Patrick squares his shoulders and leaves the cafeteria, determined to make a change in his life. He files away the image of David as he makes it back to his dorm. 

He stands in the middle of his room for a moment before asking aloud, “What do I wear?”

* * *

“What do I wear?” David murmurs to himself as he rummages through his closet. Tonight is an important gallery opening he’s been invited to, one of the seniors in the graduating class presenting their final thesis and many of David’s professors will be present. At the end of year, five students will be selected to present their work at an exclusive gallery down in Chelsea and David is dying to snag a slot. 

He’s deciding between a deep purple Prada suit or a more casual pair of pewter Louis Vuitton slacks when Stevie calls him, interrupting his thoughts. 

“I’m in the middle of a very important decision right now, this better be good.”

“Hello to you too, asshole.”

“Do you remember me ever wearing purple? Any thoughts on that?”

“David, I thought we agreed to never ask me about fashion advice.”

“You’re right, I forgot,” David says picking up the grey pants. “Why are you calling me?”

“I’m not allowed to call my best friend?”

“It’s Friday night, you’re usually hanging out with Patrick,” David says absentmindedly as his plucks a white Balmain sweater from the hanger. 

“Well, Patrick has plans tonight.”

David stops short, alarm bells suddenly going off in his head. 

“What?” He asks into the phone, his attention now fully on Stevie.

“What?”

“What did you just say?”

“About what?”

“About Patrick.”

“What about Patrick.”

“Stevie.”

“David.”

“Why aren’t you hanging out with Patrick tonight?”

There’s silence on the other end as David waits with bated breath. 

“Patrick has plans tonight, with a boy.”

“A boy?”

“Yes.”

“A cute boy?”

“I think so?”

David sits heavily on his bed, his mind whirring at a dangerous pace. 

“He has a date,” David breathes out quietly. 

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it, the idea of Patrick seeing other people. Why shouldn’t he? They are both so young, and Patrick is so handsome, and smart, and kind. Of course he’s sought after. Of course he has a date. 

_Fuck._

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but I can’t seem to keep many secrets from you,” Stevie sighs from the other end. “It’s not fair really.”

“Yeah, it’s not,” David says absentmindedly. 

“Are you okay?”

David takes a deep breath. “No, I’m not. I’m definitely not okay.”

“I’m sorry David.”

“Don’t be,” David replies shaking his head. “I broke up with him. I’m the one who told him I didn’t love him.”

“But you do.”

“Yes,” David says without hesitation, because it has gotten easier with every day that passes, admitting that he loves Patrick. “I love him very much.”

Stevie is silent again and David mindlessly plays with the lapel of the deep purple suit jacket. 

“He said he could spend the rest of his life waiting for you. And that was why he has to try and move on. Because that’s scary for him.”

David closes his eyes and flops backwards on his bed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. 

“Seems a bit cruel to be telling me this, Stevie.”

“Oh it is. But I also think it’s necessary for you to hear. He can wait around forever, David. But he doesn’t want to. What are you going to do about it?”

David stares blankly up at his ceiling, his heart thudding when shapes and colors bombard his mind. “I’m going to paint.”

* * *

“And so I was stuck up a tree until my parents called the fire department. Definitely not my proudest moment,” Ken says with a laugh. Patrick chuckles, taking a sip of his tea. 

“A valiant effort to save a squirrel,” Patrick says with a smile. 

“I think about him often,” Ken replies jokingly. 

“Oh, I’m sure he thinks about you too,” Patrick teases back and Ken’s smile grows wider. Suddenly a blush stains his cheeks and he looks down bashfully. 

“I’m having a really nice time,” he says quietly. Patrick blinks at him in surprise. 

“Uh, yeah, me too,” he replies nervously. Patrick thinks he is because he’s laughed a couple of times. He sometimes got a little distracted by Ken’s shoes, but he’s always managed to keep the conversation going. That means he’s having fun, right?

_Wrong._

“Wanna get out of here?” Ken asks. 

“Sure,” Patrick says, reaching for his coat draped on his chair and pulling it on. 

It’s a cold evening in spring, the sky dotted with stars up above them. Patrick shoves his hands deep into his pockets as he and Ken walk across the quad from the little corner cafe on campus. They talk about class, about adjusting to college life, until they’re both standing in front of Patrick’s dorm. There’s an awkward silence as Patrick shifts his weight from one foot to the other, not knowing what to do. He looks down and stares at Ken’s shoes again. 

“I had a really nice time,” Ken says again smiling up at Patrick. 

Patrick smiles back, tentative and small. “Me too.”

“Would you want to meet up again some time?”

“Yes,” Patrick breathes out, taking his phone out of his pocket. “You should put your number in here.”

Patrick lifts his phone to unlock it when his eyes suddenly zero in on today’s date. He blinks down at it as the world stops around him, the wind leaving his body in one shocked gust. 

_April 14. Today is April 14. Today is the one year anniversary of kissing David._

How could he have not realized? It was almost nine o’clock at night. How could he have let the day pass by?

Patrick is staring dumbly at his phone until Ken calls out his name.   
  
“Patrick? Are you okay?”

Patrick shakes his head and for a second he sees David in front of him, before he quickly disappears and he’s left alone with Ken. 

Ken, who is nice, and smart, and sweet. Ken, who is not David. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Patrick stammers out, taking a step back. “I can’t do this.”

A look of hurt settles onto Ken’s face. “What?”

“It’s not you, it’s me. Fuck, that sounds so lame, I’m sorry,” Patrick says quickly. “It’s just that, I-I’m still hung up on someone. I thought I could move on, but I don’t think I can. Not yet.”

Ken smiles sadly at him. “Okay, I understand.”

Patrick shakes his head. “You shouldn’t. You deserve so much better than this. I’m so sorry, I really am.”

“Don’t be,” Ken says gently. “It looks like you are trying your best.”

Patrick laughs bitterly, rubbing the back of his neck. “My best doesn’t seem to be cutting it.”

“Well, whoever this person is, I hope they know how lucky they are. You obviously care a lot about them.”

“I do,” Patrick replies. “He’s everything.”

Ken gives him one more sad smile before taking a step back. “I’ll see you around, Patrick.”

Patrick watches him walk away, feeling guilty yet relieved. He stays outside, staring upwards towards the sky, losing himself until a frigid gust of air passes through him, jolting him back to reality. He shoves his hands back into his pockets and makes his way into the building, the faint taste of David’s sweet kisses on his lips. 

* * *

David is frantically weaving through the crowd, desperately trying to reach the entrance. He keeps looking down at his phone, his anxiety continuing to spike higher and higher. 

_Seven minutes. I only have seven minutes._

It didn’t occur to him until someone had verbally said today’s date out loud. He had been sampling a gruyere stuffed meatball when a woman next to him said to her date, “Our tickets to Hamilton are on April 24th, today is April 14th.”

_April 14. Today is April 14. Today is the one year anniversary of kissing Patrick._

And he was stuck in a posh art exhibit with people he didn’t like. It was incorrect. So he hastily put down his small plate of hors d’oeuvres and began to make his way out of the gallery so that he could cherish the last few minutes of this day by himself, not surrounded by people who didn’t deserve to know how special today was. 

He sees the exit, relief washing over him, when somebody steps in front of him, cutting him off. For a second he sees Patrick in front of him, before he quickly disappears and he’s left alone with Sebastien. 

“David,” Sebastien says stepping into David’s space. “I was hoping to see you here.”

“Not now, Sebastien,” David grits out, trying to step around him. “I’m busy.”

“It’ll only be a moment,” Sebastien replies easily. “I want to invite you to a party next week.”

“I’m not interested,” David replies trying to step around him again, but Sebastien moves with him, annoyance spiking sharply inside of David. 

“It’s _very_ exclusive. Some of the most up and coming artists of this time will be there. You must come.”

“Fine,” David bites out. “Text me the details. I’ll be there.”

Sebastien gives him a slimy grin, finally taking a step back from David. “Perfect.”

David doesn’t have time to unpack Sebastien’s motives, walking quickly out of the building and rounding the corner away from the busy sidewalk. He tucks himself into a small alley and leans against a jagged brick wall.

He stares down at his phone, seeing he only has two minutes left in the day. 

How could he have not realized? It was almost midnight. How could he have let the day pass by?

He watches the seconds tick by, the day counting down.

What does it mean? What does not realizing what day it was today until the last seven minutes remained mean? Was this his body’s way of telling David to move on too?

Moving on from Patrick?

_No. No, I can’t. I don’t want to._

David watches the last few second roll by before his phone shifts into the new day. 

David leans his head back and lets it thunk against the brick wall behind him. He wonders if Patrick knew what today was. If he remembered. 

David stares upwards towards the sky, unable to see the stars because of the bright lights of the city. A cold gust of wind passes through him, but David doesn’t move. Just stares up wishing he could see something. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favorite chapters to write. It came very easily to me. We're almost towards the finish line! Thank you all for being so patient with me and handling all this angst like rock stars! It'll all come to fruition soon :)

_This is a mistake. I’ve made a terrible mistake. Ew, who the fuck wears that to a party?_

David is leaning up against a wall, nursing a wine glass in his hand as he stares out into the party of a spacious loft in the East Village. The lights are low, the music is loud, and bodies are constantly moving, a diverse crowd that all share a similar love of alcohol, art and drugs. David spent the first fifteen minutes of his arrival making small talk and giving out superficial greetings before he realized how utterly bored he was. 

Which is why he grabbed a large wine glass and topped it off with cabernet before expelling himself to the farthest wall to silently judge everyone, wishing Stevie were here so they could sneak off and get high. God, he misses Stevie. 

And Patrick. He _really_ misses Patrick. 

He knew he shouldn’t have come; any invitation from Sebastien Raine usually came with a caveat, but David was feeling lonely today.

David sighs to himself and leaves his wine glass on a table and makes his way to the door. He’s managed to avoid Sebastien so far, best not to push his luck. 

He passes by a group of people passing around God knows what when he feels a hand on his shoulder, gripping down tightly. 

“David, there you are,” Sebastien says with a smile. 

“Sebastien, I was just leaving,” David replies trying to move away. But Sebastien’s grip only tightens. 

“But the party has only just begun! Come, there’s something I want to show you.”

“Sebastien, I don’t-”

“Please, David. Just a moment of your time.”

David sighs and nods his head, following Sebastien down the hallway towards a bedroom farthest away from the party. He opens the door and gestures for David to walk in, closing the door behind them. 

David sits on the bed and crosses his leg, impatiently waiting for Sebastien to begin speaking. Sebastian instead leans against the dresser and stares down at David, an annoying smirk on his lips. 

“What?” David asks. 

“Just thinking. You and I have known each other for quite some time now, David. I’m wondering what took me so long to appreciate your aura.”

_Gross,_ David thinks to himself. “I believe there was something you wanted to show me?” He asks with am impatient frown.

“Ah, yes,” Sebastien says sitting down next to David a little too closely. “I’ve begun a portrait series that I want to show you. I would love your opinion, you’ve always had such a keen eye.”

Sebastian passes David his phone and David flips through the photos, David recognizing many of the models as people he has come across during his parents lavish parties. He looks through them quickly, unable to deny that they are actually nice photos. But they were taken by Sebastien so David feels the need to deduct some points. 

“Stunning,” David says with no feeling, passing the phone back. “They’re beautiful photos.”

“Thank you, David. I was hoping you would think so because I would love to collaborate with you on this project.”

“And why would you want that, Sebastien?”

“I love your work, David,” Sebastien says softly, placing his hand on David’s shoulder. “And it would be an excuse to spend more time with you.”

Two years ago David would have jumped at the opportunity to work with Sebastien. He was mysterious and seductive and David always found himself searching for him whenever he was invited to one of his family’s events.

Sebastien is rugged, his voice like silk and his eyes could ensnare you the moment you looked into them. He is one of the most handsome men David has ever known and he’s making a pass at him right now, and all David can think about is a button face boy who plays baseball with dry cuticles. 

David raises his eyebrow at Sebastien and gently dislodges his hand from his shoulder. “I’m flattered, Sebastian. But I’m not interested.”

Sebastien looks shocked and then annoyed before it settles into a casual coolness, Sebastien leaning away from David. “Of course, David. I understand.”

“Great,” David says standing up. “I’m going to head out now. It was nice seeing you, good luck with the rest of the party.”

“Just one more thing before you leave, David,” Sebastien says. David groans internally before turning back around with a patient smile. 

“I’m still working on a list of subjects I’d like to work with and your mother is at the top of my list. Could you be a doll and put in a good word for me?” Sebastien asks with a charming smile. 

_Ah, there it is._

“I’ll let her know,” David replies with a grimace before turning on his heel and walking away quickly. 

David doesn’t bother saying goodbye to anyone else at the party, knowing no one would actually even realize he was gone anyways. 

He shoves his hands deep into his pockets, burrowing himself in his coat. _Of course_ Sebastien was only interested in speaking with him to get closer to his mother so _thank God_ David didn’t lean into the moment. What a disaster that would have been. 

David jumps on an uptown train home, sitting in an empty train car by himself, watching the stations pass absentmindedly. When he reaches Grand Central Station, he pulls out his phone to text Stevie what had just happened when he notices how young the night still is. Well, early for New York City. 

It’s also then when he realizes he’s never actually stepped foot into Grand Central Station, always passing by it on his way to class. He stands quickly from his seat and makes his way out, barely making it out of the subway car, his arm catching slightly on the closing doors.

He ascends the concrete and steels steps, crinkling his nose at the dated red tile flooring and harsh fluorescent lighting of the subway station. He stands on an upward escalator that takes him up to the main floor, a woman in a hurry brushing past him. He follows the sign that says “Grand Concourse” and expects to be somewhat dazzled by the architecture. And he is dazzled, but also absolutely floored. 

It’s massive, the vaulted ceiling high above him with a magnificent star map of turquoise and gold stretching across the entire concourse. It’s a celestial haven, constellations painted beautifully with stars dotting the sky. They twinkle, David’s eyes flicking between Aquarius to Pegasus to Orion, completely entranced. He doesn’t remember how, but he’s made it to the middle of the terminal, standing alone and staring upwards. There aren’t many people, a few stragglers like David taking in the sight above them. 

He feels small and insignificant compared to the majesty above him, similar to how he felt living in his small town for all his life, too different to fit in. Everyone was satisfied with living in simplicity, staying in the same place they knew, not needing to branch out and explore what lay beyond the horizon of trees past the farms and fields. David felt like he was suffocating every day living there. 

So it only seemed natural for him to plan his life in New York City. It was exciting and different and chasing adventure sounded like salvation. 

But David is beginning to wonder if it was salvation he was looking for, or a distraction. A distraction from his parent’s neglect. A distraction from his sister’s nonchalance. A distraction from his loneliness.

Moving to New York could fix all that with physical distance to match the emotional distance he was already feeling. Until the distance began to shorten and David had a taste of what life could be like if he stayed.

His parents asking more about his art. Alexis texting him every day with updates about her pre-college prep courses and demanding updates from him. Stevie calling him and telling him about what bizarre guest checked into the motel today. 

Patrick. Loving Patrick and being loved back. 

“Shall I stay?”

David is broken out of his spell and turns sharply to his right as a man with a guitar strapped to his back singing the heartbreaking lyrics of Elvis Presley walks by him towards the subway entrance. David blinks after him, the words playing over and over in his mind. 

_Shall I stay?_

He wasn’t so sure anymore. 

He stands there for what feels like hours when he finally moves his feet forward, out of the terminal and back out into the cold New York City air. His apartment is on 72nd street, so David shoves his hands back into his pockets and makes the 30 block trek back to his apartment. 

He has to paint.

* * *

Patrick is loading groceries into his car when he hears a familiar voice twinkle through the air. His head snaps up, almost hitting the underside of his trunk when he sees Alexis coming out of the grocery store with Ted Mullins next to her, carrying several paper bags in his hands. 

“Okay, but like, I personally think it’s better that I _supervise_ ,” Alexis says to Ted. 

“Babe, it’s fine. I don’t mind making the pie as long as you’re there to keep me company. I have a good _filling_ that this is going to be the best pie I’ve ever baked!”

“Ted!” Alexis says delightfully, playfully swatting at his arm. She giggles into her hand and turns her head and makes eye contact with Patrick. 

“Button!” She exclaims happily, wrapping an arm around Ted’s bicep and pulling him with her. “I haven’t seen your cute face in a while!”

“Hi Alexis,” Patrick says sheepishly. “Just picking up some things for my mom.”

“That is so sweet,” she coos. “Ted and I were just shopping for ingredients to make a pie! His vet friends are hosting a baking contest and we’re entering his mom’s famous apple pie recipe.”

“Yeah, I’m glad that she _crusted_ us with her recipe!” Ted replies. Patrick winces at the bad pun but Alexis giggles harder next to him, a look of utter fondness on her face. 

Suddenly someone’s phone begins to ring, the three of them each reaching for their phones. 

“Oh! It’s me! Hello? What? Oh, oh okay! I’ll be right over! Tell Gerta to wait until I get there!” Ted says loudly into his phone. “Babe, we gotta go. Sam just told me that Gerta is about to give birth!”

“Who’s Gerta?” Patrick asks. 

“A pig at one of Ted’s friend’s farm,” Alexis answers. 

“I have to rush there now if I want to help out with the birth. Alexis, do you mind coming with me? I don’t think I have time to drop you off at home.”

Alexis crinkles her nose and raises her hands up limply. “Um, I don’t really want to?”

“I can drop you off,” Patrick says. 

“Oh yay! Like old time’s sake!” Alexis says clapping her hands. 

“Thanks, Patrick. I owe you one buddy!” Ted kisses Alexis’ cheek hastily and jogs to his car carrying the groceries. “I’ll call you when I’m done babe!”

“Make sure you go home and change first before we go out tonight!” Alexis calls out, waiving towards her boyfriend. “The last time he helped give birth to something, he forgot to change his shirt and it was like really gross.”

Patrick grimaces. “I’m sure.” He closes his trunk and walks to the passenger side, opening up the door for Alexis as he always did when driving her home. 

“So how have you been, button?” Alexis asks once he’s started to car and is making his way out of the parking lot. 

“Busy, finals are coming up. What about you? Excited to be graduating high school?”

“Everyone graduates from high school,” Alexis says with an eye-roll. But underneath there’s a tone of pride in her, one that Patrick hopes continues to grow. 

“How are your parents?”

“Fine. Mom and dad have been home more now that he doesn’t have many business trips. And mom has been easing up on the parties. They even mentioned not throwing a Christmas party this year.”

Patrick’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? Do you know why?”

Alexis shrugs her shoulders. “Nope. I don’t even really know what happened at last year’s party. David and I pretended to be sick so we could skip the whole thing.”

Patrick’s heart skips a beat at the mention of David’s name, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.   
  
“And h-how is D-David?” Patrick stammers, clearing his throat in embarrassment. 

Alexis goes quiet next to him, so he glances over and sees her smirking at him. 

“David’s fine,” Alexis responds primly. 

“T-that’s good.”

“Mm,” Alexis hums and it’s quiet in the car. Patrick is biting his lip, trying to figure out a way to ease more information about David out of Alexis when she says, “Do you remember what I said? When you first dropped me off at home last year?”

Patrick sighs. “Yes, I do.”

“I still believe it.”

Patrick turns sharply towards her before hastily looking back out towards the road. “What?”

“I know you’ll stick around.”

Patrick feels a lump forming in his throat. “Are you sure about that?”

“Mm, I’m sure. David is difficult to love for a lot of people. And the fact that you’re still trying already says a lot.”

“How do you know I’m still trying?”

“Why are you giving me a ride home?”

“Because I care about you, Alexis.”

“Because I’m important to David. See, still trying,” Alexis says lifting her chin up. 

Patrick can’t help his lip from twitching upward, his affection for Alexis warming him up inside. They settle into a comfortable silence as Patrick lets his mind wander around Alexis’ words. 

_David is difficult to love for a lot of people._

But he’s really not. It’s so easy to love David. He appreciates every thing, even the tiniest of gestures. Like the way he hummed whenever Patrick kept snacks in the car for him and let him choose what music to listen to, or when his face lit up whenever Patrick let him steal his french fries, or when his eyes twinkled whenever Patrick folded up his sweater carefully after pulling it off of David’s body during a particularly handsy movie night. 

For Patrick, loving David was always one of the easiest things in the world. It always came naturally for him. 

And in return, David showed him he cared too. He showed it by updating Patrick’s spreadsheet program on his computer with the latest version without telling him, by ironing Patrick’s baseball jersey the night before every game, by getting the strings of Patrick’s guitar replaced when they were beginning to become too worn. 

That was something, wasn’t it? David may not love him back, but there was something there that made him do all of that. Is that enough?

_Yes._

The need to see David becomes desperate inside of Patrick, his head reeling. Because try as he might, moving on from David has not been easy. And Alexis is right, he is still trying. He’ll always try. 

Patrick pulls up into the massive driveway of the Rose mansion and turns off his engine. 

“Thank you, Alexis,” Patrick says expecting Alexis to be confused by his sudden gratitude. But she smiles and taps him gently on the nose and says, “You’re welcome.”

She’s unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the door when she suddenly goes, “Oh! Adelina made these yummy cookies last night that you have to try! Come in and I’ll get some for you!”

Patrick doesn’t decline, unbuckling his own seatbelt and following her into the massive mansion. It’s been almost a year since he’s stepping inside, the last time he was here for a picnic on a cool spring day in May with his head pillowed on David’s lap. 

“You wait here while I go and get some for you,” Alexis says bouncing off humming to herself. 

He stands awkwardly with his hands shoved in his pockets, looking around the foyer. Nothing has changed. The mansion is still immaculate and clean, the marble floors still gleaming brightly. Expensive vases and statues perched on pedestals, beautiful paintings-

Patrick zeroes in on one painting hanging on the wall of the tea room, his legs carrying him there before he can think. He stops in front of the painting, his heart beating loudly against his chest, his legs like jello. 

Two figures, separated by violent waves of red and purple, reaching for each other, their fingers just barely touching.

_Paint a wish. Any wish you find yourself thinking about often._

He’s taken back to the art room, when he finally mustered up enough courage to sit next to David, laughing and teasing each other. On the bottom right hand corner is David’s signature, Patrick tracing it gently with the tip of his finger. 

“Oh, hello there Patrick!”

Patrick turns around quickly and sees Mr. Rose standing in front of him wearing a perfectly pressed navy blue suit with a white pocket square. 

“H-Hi Mr. Rose,” Patrick stutters nervously. “I was just dropping Alexis off.”

“That was very nice of you, Patrick,” he says entering the room. “I take it you were enjoying the art?”

“Yes, I love this painting,” Patrick says with a blush.

“Ah yes, one of my favorites too, painted by a brilliant artist not too long ago,” Mr. Rose says with a teasing glint in his eyes. 

Patrick grins, nodding his head. “One of the best.”

Mr. Rose walks closer to him, stopping until standing shoulder to shoulder looking at the painting together. 

“He’s doing well,” Mr. Rose murmurs to himself. “New York has been good to him so far. Though I still wish he were back here with us.”

Patrick swallows thickly. “Yeah, me too.”

“I haven’t seen you for a while, Patrick. How have you been? How’s school?”

“It’s going well, I enjoy most of my classes.”

“Business, correct?”

“Yes, I’m actually a part of a young entrepreneur’s club at school.”

“Ah, good to surround yourself with peers who share the same dreams as you do. You never know who you’ll need later on down the road.”

Patrick nods his head with a smile, turning his head back to look at David’s painting, the ache of missing him growing. 

“You know,” Mr. Rose says. “I never thanked you, Patrick.”

“For what?” Patrick asks confused. 

“That day we had the barbecue, when you stood up for David.”

“Oh,” Patrick says blushing. “No, I really should apologize. It wasn’t right for me to burst out like that.”

“No, no, we needed to hear that, his mother and I. You really had an impact on us that day.”

“I did?” Patrick asks quietly. 

Mr. Rose nods his head. "We always thought David’s art was a whim, a hobby he would eventually grow out of. But then you defended him, gave him confidence and he showed us his work,” Mr. Rose says nodding his head towards the painting. “And we realized quickly that this went beyond a phase. It is his life, his passion. And now we have all this beautiful artwork to display for the world to see,” Mr Rose says gesturing around the room. It’s then that Patrick realizes that all the walls are now covered with David’s paintings, his soul and his talent lit brightly by the sun pouring in through the large windows. 

Patrick loses his breath as David’s energy seeps into his skin. 

_I’ll always be here, David. For as long as you want me._

“Yes, you helped us see what was right in front of us. And I don’t know exactly what happened between you two,” Mr. Rose murmurs. “But I believe you two will work things out.”

Patricks eyes widen and he looks down shyly. 

“There are some things in the world that are meant to happen. You and David seem to be one of those things.”

Patrick takes a shuddering breath and nods his head. “Thank you, Mr. Rose.”

“Anytime, Patrick,” Mr. Rose says clapping his hand on his shoulder. 

“There you are,” Alexis says, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “I brought you the cookies. Adelina says she’ll make you more if you ever want them.”

“Thank you, Alexis,” Patrick says warmly, accepting the small tin from her hands. 

“Alexis, have you said hello to your mother yet?”

“No, I just got here,” Alexis replies flicking her hair. 

“Well, be sure to do so. She’s leaving for New York in two hours and won’t be back until Sunday night.”

“Why is she going to New York?”

“To visit your brother. And to attend a launch party for some French cosmetics brand, La Marina or something.”

“ _La Mer_ dad!”

“Oh yes, that’s the one. Anyways, be sure to say goodbye to her. Patrick, it was very nice seeing you. I hope I’ll be seeing you soon,” Mr. Rose says with a pointed look. 

Patrick grins and nods his head. “You will, I promise.”

“Good,” Mr. Rose responds with a smile and walks out of the tea room. 

“What were you and my dad talking about?” Alexis asks poking his arm. 

Patrick shakes his head with a smile. “Nothing.”

* * *

David enters his apartment after a long day of errands, placing his grocery bags on his kitchen table, slipping off his shoes and throwing his body onto his couch. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, enjoying the quiet. He feels himself dozing off until he hears his apartment door slam open. He jumps up, ready to defend himself, or more realistically scream for help, when he sees his mother standing in front of him, dressed in a long black coat with fur lining and a hat the size of a Walmart. 

“Oh David, stop looking at me with your mouth open, you’ll catch flies,” she says taking her hat off and gently placing it on his kitchen table next to his groceries. 

“What are you doing here? And how did you get in?” David asks as he watches his mother flitter around his living room. 

“With this of course, dear,” she says holding up a spare key. “I took it from your apartment the last time I was here. I found it in one of your drawers and thought it best to keep it with me for this specific purpose.” She takes off her coat and drapes it along the back of one of his dining chairs, fluffing her hair. 

“And what purpose is that? To burgle me again?” He asks with the hands gesturing wildly in the air. 

His mother tsks at him before sitting very primly on his couch. “Could you fetch mummy a glass of wine please, dear.”

“I don’t have wine. I’m not old enough to buy wine, remember?”

His mother looks at him as if he were dim. “You and I both know you have wine, David. And as much as I should reprimand you and your underage drinking habits, in this case I must let it pass if it means I get to quench my parched throat.”

David huffs and reluctantly takes a bottle from his secret stash deep behind his spice cabinet. 

“You never answered my first question. What are you doing here?” David asks handing her a glass. 

“I came to see my only son of course,” she says patting the spot next to her. “I also have an event with La Mer tomorrow afternoon. And then I will be promenading back to our humble home in the evening. Now,” she says taking a deep sip of wine. “Tell me about you. What have you been up to?”

“Well,” David sighs knowing it’s best not to fight a losing battle and sitting down next to her. “Finishing up my first year of art school with flying colors.”

His mother pats his cheek affectionately. “We had no doubts you would, dear.”

“Really?” David asks sarcastically. “Never would have been able to tell.”

“Oh David,” his mother says putting down her wine glass. “I know we haven’t been very supportive in the past, but please do believe me when I say your father and I just wanted what was best for you. And now we know cultivating your artistic endeavors is what’s best. We are truly, very proud of you.”

The look his mother gives him is actually sincere, too sincere in fact and David has to look away as he feels his eyes beginning to form tears. “Thank you,” he mutters quietly, playing with the hem of his sweater. 

“Now,” his mother says patting is knee and standing up with her wine. “I have an important event tomorrow and I must look my absolute best. I believe you have a Chanel scarf that will go wonderfully with my ensemble tomorrow.”

“Is that why you came here?” David asks with a huff. 

“There’s nothing wrong with killing two pheasants with one pebble, David,” she says walking towards his bedroom. David follows her knowing that she and Alexis share many similarities when it comes to raiding his closet, including plucking things without telling him. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she says suddenly turning around and David almost bumps into her. “Sweet Pat stopped by the house yesterday.”

David feels like ice water is poured over his body as he stands frozen. “What?”

“Yes, it seems he gave Alexis a ride home. Sweet thing. He and your father had a lovely chat in the tearoom.”

Davis swallows thickly, turning away from his mother’s pointed gaze. “W-what were they talking about?” David asks his mouth feeling like it’s thick with sand. 

“Why, you of course.”

“Me?” David asks shocked. 

“Oh David,” his mother says with a wearily. “Don’t act surprised, we all know how taken sweet Pat is with you.”

“Ok, we’re not doing Pat. And there’s no reason for him to be talking about me with dad, we’re not together,” David says crossing his arms across his chest. 

“David, we don’t know what transpired between you two, but could you for once embrace joy?”

“I did embrace joy and it left me with permanent dark circles!”

“Oh, I’m glad you noticed them too. I didn’t want to be uncouth and say something about them, but David you really do need to get them under control,” his mother says reaching to touch the bags under his eyes. 

“Okay,” he says swatting her hands away. “It’s been a long semester and I’ve been up all night painting, what do you want from me?”

“I want my son to be happy of course,” she responds breezily. “Whatever it is that happened between you two now lives in antiquity, David. Are you sure you want to continue on clutching onto the pain of your past instead of moving forward?”

David huffs and looks away, closing his eyes tightly. 

“He sees you, for all that you are. Don’t you think you deserve that?”

David presses his lips together and lets out a harsh breath. 

“I’ll think about it,” David mutters. 

“That’s all I ask. Now, let me just fetch that scarf,” she says turning back around towards his bedroom. “Oh, David. Is this bag new?”

“Don’t touch my Balmain!” David yells running after her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's actually a lot of interesting history regarding to celestial mural on the ceiling of Grand Centra Station that I recommend everyone look into! Despite a lot of errors and mistakes, it truly is majestic if you have the chance to see it in person. It sucks you away into a different world.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. How is every doing? Is everyone okay? I know yesterday was very emotional for all of us as we now venture into season 6. I'm just here to remind everyone to stay hydrated because we have 13 more weeks to get through. 
> 
> Also here's a new chapter, xoxo

Stevie is staring hard at a game of solitaire on the motel computer screen when Patrick comes bursting in. 

“I want to go see David,” he says quickly. 

Stevie doesn’t look up, dragging her mouse across the computer screen. 

“Hello to you too.”

“I have to go see David, Stevie,” Patrick says passionately. 

“Why?”

“Because I love him.”

“Oh, you do?”

“I need to try one more time.”

“Hm.”

“You don’t seem very surprised by this,” Patrick says slowing down. 

“Am I supposed to be?”

“Stevie,” Patrick whines, leaning his elbows against the wooden counter. “I need your help.”

“My help?”

“Yes, I need you to come with me.”

“Where?”

“New York City.”

“And why would I go to New York City with you?”  


“Because I’ve never travelled so far by myself. And don’t you want to see David too?”

Stevie sighs and finally looks up from the computer screen, turning towards Patrick. 

“Obviously.”

“Then let’s go!”

“Patrick, we have school. We can’t just go to New York City right now. We should wait until the semester is done.”

Patrick pouts and turns around to plop down on the worn couch, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“Since when have you been so responsible,” Patrick grumbles. 

“Since I’ve been babysitting you two idiots for the last year. Seriously, after you and David get back together, I’m taking a break from you. I’ve spent too much of my time playing referee.”

Patrick suddenly begins to feel guilty, knowing that Stevie is right. She has been incredibly patient with both him and David, juggling her friendship between the two and being very selfless. Patrick never thought he would have a friend like her and now understands why David is so protective of her.

“You’re a good friend, you know that, right Stevie?”

“Now is not the time to get sappy, Brewer,” Stevie replies returning her attention back to her game of solitaire. 

Patrick grins at her and stands up from the couch, walking towards the door when he turns around. “Do you really think David and I are going to get back together?”

“I will not be answering stupid ass questions at this time.”

Patrick grins widely at her one more time and closes the door gently behind him.

* * *

David is standing up to leave his painting class when his professor stops him. 

“David? Could I talk to you before you leave?” Prof. Miller says from the front of the classroom. David furrows his eyebrows in confusion and walks down to her, clutching onto his bag nervously. 

“Is it about my painting? I know I deviated from the prompt _slightly_ , but I just really think-”

“David,” Prof. Miller gently cutting him off. “Your painting is fine, that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”

David lets out a breath and nods his head. 

“The faculty and I were wondering if you would like your work to be featured at the end of year exhibit.”

David’s mind goes blank. 

“Huh?”

Prof. Miller chuckles. “You’ve done exceptional work this year, David. Your other professors and I are incredibly impressed. And we would like to display it. As you know, only-”

“-Five students are chosen,” David says in a daze. “And you want to choose me?”

“You’re an artist, David,” Prof. Miller says gently. “We would be proud to show your work.”

David swallows thickly, overcome with emotion. He wants this chance, almost desperately, and to be given it feels like a dream. 

“I’ve actually been working on several paintings at home, would I be allowed to display those?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Miller says nodding her head. “It’s up to you what you want to display. And if it’s anything like the other work you’ve created this year in class, I have no doubts that they will be just as spectacular.”

“Thank you, Prof. Miller. I don’t know what to say,” David says, his voice thick with emotion.

“Just keep up the good work, David,” she says clapping him on the shoulder. “Your future is bright here in New York.”

David goes back to his apartment still in a daze, processing what just happened. He’s doing it, isn’t he? He’s making his mark in New York City all by himself. He’s doing what he set out to do. And he’s happy. 

But why doesn’t it feel enough?

It’s been his dream to be an artist in New York for as long as he can remember. Going to exclusive art exhibits, being featured in up-scale galleries, spending his life taking the colors and shapes that take up space in his mind and creating beautiful things with them. 

And yet he is so lonely.

David sits heavily on his couch, blankly looking around his apartment. He designed his space with meticulous detail, choosing every piece with intention and care. 

The apartment is fairly small, but large floor to ceiling windows bring in a gleam of natural light that makes the space expand past horizons. He has a small, brown leather sectional that’s perfect for watching _Bridget Jone’s Diary_ on, a heather grey shag rug, and a tall indoor cheese plant that David waters every morning, running his hands against the smooth, waxy leaves. In front of his windows is his painting area, a large wooden easel worn down with love, a small white tarp splattered with paint underneath it, and a wooden shelf that stretches up to the high ceiling housing all of his art supplies. 

He wanted it to feel like a home, his home. 

But home isn’t about things or a carefully curated color palette. Home is his parents, Alexis, Stevie, Patrick. 

Home is feeling safe. 

_Your future is bright here in New York._

David didn’t really think very far ahead after getting into art school. He just assumed his life would fall into place once he got here.

And he’s adjusted to life in New York very well, his confidence in the city growing every day he’s here. But something is nagging him in the back of his mind that he can’t quite place. 

David gently reaches into the neckline of his sweater and takes out the labradorite necklace, rubbing his thumb on the smooth stone. He’s been wearing it more often, needing the extra bit of protection as he tries to grapple with the choices of his future.

_It’s a stone of protection, helping keep fear and insecurities away. It also helps strengthen faith in yourself and trust for the universe._

_Faith in yourself and trust for the universe._

_Your future is bright here in New York._

Yes, it was. But did it have to be here?

David stands from his couch and rummages into his bag until he finds his leather notebook, flipping the pages to a blank page and writing down what he wants for his future, pushing the fear of disappointment to the back of his mind. 

He wants his family. He wants Stevie. He wants his tiny, in the middle of nowhere town. 

He wants to paint. He wants to create beautiful things. 

He wants Patrick. 

And most importantly, he wants himself. 

_Faith in myself._

David lets out a deep breath and reaches for his phone, pressing Stevie’s number. 

“What?”

“Can you come to New York?”

“I have too many responsibilities right now, David.”

“Like what?”

“I think I need to change the sheets in room three soon. We have some honeymooners.”

“Okay ew, I did not need to know that. Can you come to New York in two weeks then?”

“Why, what’s going on?”

David bites his bottom lip and rushes out, “I was chosen. My paintings are going to be in the gallery.”

“David, fuck!” Stevie says her tone changing from teasing to joy immediately. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Thank you,” David says feeling his eyes beginning to water. “I’m feeling very raw right now. This is all a lot for me.”

“What about your parents? Are they going to be there too?”

“Oh God no. I mean, yes I’m going to tell them about the gallery, but I don’t want them there. I don’t think I can handle them being there honestly. I’ll be very emotional and no one wants that.”

“But you want me there?”

“I need you there, Stevie. Can you come?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Good,” David breathes out as his mind pieces together the collection of paintings he’s been working on. “Good, this is good.”

* * *

Patrick is wrapping up his term paper on his computer when Stevie barges into his room. 

“Give me your laptop, we need to look up flights to New York.”

Patrick rears back in shock. “What?”

“We need to look up flights two weeks from Saturday. David asked me to come and you’re coming with me,” Stevie says shrugging off her jacket and dropping her messenger bag on the floor next to his desk.

Patrick’s heart begins to pound against his chest. “Why are you going to New York?”

“He was chosen for his gallery thing, he needs support,” Stevie says taking Patrick’s laptop in her hands and sitting on his bed. “The thing is on that Saturday, but I have work up until that Friday so we can’t fly out until after that.”

“We’re going to New York to see David?” Patrick asks in a daze. 

“Get it together, Brewer. You were the one who came to me demanding we go see him. Don’t tell me you’re going to chicken out of this,” Stevie says with a pointed look. 

Patrick immediately sits up straighter in his chair. “Absolutely not. I’m going with you.”

“Good,” Stevie replies nodding her head. “Just so you know, I’m taking the window seat.”

Patrick grins at her, his heart swelling at the thought of seeing David. 

_Want me. Want me always._

* * *

Patrick grips the wooden bat in his hands, carefully eying the pitching machine, swinging wide as a baseball is hurled towards him. It’s about a week before finals, Patrick opting to spend his day at the batting cages in Elmdale to relieve himself of some stress. He asked if Stevie wanted to come, but her idea of winding down included three bottles of wine and a marathon of “To Catch a Predator”.

Sweat dots his forehead as he swings again and again, the sharp crack of the ball against his bat ringing in his ears, the vibration of the hit making his body buzz with adrenaline. 

He comes here whenever he can, in between classes and homework, whenever he’s feeling especially on edge. He still misses the rest of it, being on a team, the smell of grass and dirt, but this fits into his life now. It’s all a part of growing up Patrick knows. 

The machine winds down after his last ball, Patrick letting the bat thump onto the ground, stretching his arms and legs. It’s been a good month since he’s been here and the ache in Patrick’s muscles is proof of that. 

He takes off his helmet and cards his fingers through his hair and makes his way out of the cage, his body flushed from the exercise. He wonders if he still has time to crash Stevie’s place when he bumps into someone rounding a corner. 

“Oops, sorry about-” The words die in his throat as he comes face to face with Brock, the same shock reflected on his face. 

“Brewer,” Brock says, clearing his throat nervously. 

Patrick jams his hands into his pockets, nodding stiffly at Brock. “Brock.”

They stand awkwardly, neither knowing what to say. 

“How’s it going?” Brock asks looking away uncomfortably. 

“Um, fine?” Patrick responds bewildered. 

“Good, good, that’s good.”

“What about you?”

“Fine, I’m over at Woodbrook, computer science,” Brock says cracking his knuckles. “Thought I come here to destress before finals.”

Patrick’s lip twitches upwards and nods his head. “I thought the same thing.”

An uncomfortable silence falls between them. 

“I, um, I’m not gonna lie,” Brock begins to say. “I was hoping I’d bump into you around here.”

“Really?” Patrick replies, his eyebrows raising up to his hairline. 

“Yeah,” Brock says rubbing the back of his neck. “I never got a chance to, um, apologize.”

“Apologize,” Patrick says weakly. “You want to apologize?”

“Yeah,” Brock kicks the dirt floor with the tip of his shoe. “You deserve an apology, Brewer.”

“Thanks,” Patrick says quietly. 

“Well, I should leave you alone now.” Brock keeps his eyes downcast as he walks past Patrick, his shoulders tense. Patrick watches him walk away, his body still coiled with tension, his mind nagging him. 

“Brock,” Patrick calls out. Brock turns around in surprise, waiting for Patrick to continue. 

Patrick takes a deep breath and gives Brock a gentle smile. “I have two gloves in my car, wanna toss the ball around with me for a little bit?”

Brock lets out a harsh breath and grins back at Patrick, small and tentative, but hopeful. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Patrick doesn’t know why he asked Brock to play catch with him, but it feels right the moment he says it. 

They settle into the field in the back of the batting cages, throwing a baseball back and forth, both easing into a steady rhythm. Until Brock pitches it slightly more to the left than before, making Patrick dive for it unexpectedly. When he looks back up, Brock is smirking at him, with a playful twinkle in his eyes and Patrick’s mouth stretches into a wide smile, throwing the ball farther, making Brock stumble backwards to catch it. 

They make it harder each time, challenging each other to do better, laughter bouncing between them. Patrick thinks this is how it should have been back in high school, two teammates trying to make each other better and mourns that it never was. He even thinks they could have been friends. How special that would have been. 

There’s no more anger between them, just remorse. Just two kids realizing the time they’ve wasted being angry. Two kids who just want to play baseball. 

The sun is beginning to set when they stop, sitting on the grassy lawn, their sweat drying off from the gentle wind that passes through them. They’re both quiet, Patrick absentmindedly playing with the grass. 

“Thanks for playing catch with me,” Patrick says looking outward. 

“Thanks for asking,” Brock replies, before hesitantly adding, “I meant it, I really am sorry for what happened.”

“I should apologize too. I never should have put my hands on you,” Patrick replies ripping a blade of grass with his fingers.

“I deserved it.”

“No one deserves that.”

“Yeah well, I should thank you for never socking me in the face,” Brock says with a chuckle. 

“You said something last year. That I’ll never understand. What did you mean?”

Brock is quiet besides him, running his fingers through the grass. 

“I was an angry kid last year. All I had was baseball. When Sam made you starting shortstop, I was jealous. It didn’t matter whether or not I deserved it. You had it, so I wanted to give you hell for it.” 

“You definitely did that,” Patrick murmurs to himself. 

“And my dad was so disappointed when I didn’t get it. Reminded me every day that I didn’t work hard enough. And being gay didn’t help either,” Brock says thickly. “I felt useless.”

“I’m sorry,” Patrick says genuinely. 

“It’s better now. We’ve been going to group therapy for the last six months. My dad and I talk more. He even told me he was proud of me,” Brock says with a wet laugh. 

Patrick thinks about his own parents, how they didn’t bat an eye when he came out to them, didn’t treat him differently, loved him just the same. He hopes Brock has that now too. 

“I’m sorry for not being a better teammate,” Patrick says turning towards Brock. “I’m sorry for not at least trying to be your friend.”

Brock shakes his head, “I wouldn’t have let you, Brewer. I would have pushed you away.”

“I still should have tried,” Patrick says firmly. “I knew taking the bet was wrong. But I agreed to it anyway because I wanted to hurt you too. I could have helped you if I didn’t let myself get so competitive.”

Brock looks down at his hands. “You really think we could have been friends?”

“Yes,” Patrick answers without hesitation. “I think we still can be.”

Brock takes a sharp breath and raises his head to look at Patrick. “I think that would be good,” and smiles. 

Patrick smiles back and knocks his shoulder against his. 

Silence.

“Are you and Rose still…” Brock asks tentatively. 

Patrick shakes his head. “No, we haven’t been together in a year.”

Brock lets out a harsh breath. “I’m really sorry, Patrick.”

“Don’t be,” Patrick says. “What happened between David and me is my own fault. But,” he says looking up into the darkening sky. “I’m not worried about it.”

“Really?” Brock asks confused. 

“Yeah,” Patrick breathes out as David appears next to him, sitting crossed legged with his crooked grin. “I’m working on it.”

* * *

“I just don’t understand the point of eating pizza like that,” David says to Stevie on his cellphone while sketching in his notebook in his kitchen.

“David, it’s normal for most people to only eat two slices.”

“Nope, you need at least four in order to decipher whether or not the pizza was actually good.”

“Was the pizza good?”

“No, it was terrible.”

“But you ate it all?”

“Yeah, of course,” David says absentmindedly.

“Huh.”

“Anyways, when you come to visit me next week, I’ll take you to my _favorite_ pizza place. It’s only a dollar, can you believe?”

“Remind me again what you’re dragging me to?”

“It’s a yearly gallery event for students to exhibit their work, only five are chosen each year. I’m showing off my paintings and I need a hot date,” David says standing up from his chair at the ding of his microwave. 

“Can I pretend to be an elite socialite whose there to buy all the art for my chalet in Aspen?”

“No, but you can eat cheese while judging all the other artwork that isn’t mine.”

“I don’t get to have a chalet though.”

“You don’t want a chalet, trust me,” David says taking a bite of his leftover pizza. “How were finals?”

“Long and painful. But back to you, after we’re done with this art thing, are you flying back home with me?” David stops mid-bite and clears his throat nervously. 

“Actually, I was thinking we take an impromptu trip to Japan.”

“David.”

“And then Bali.”

“David.”

“And _maybe_ we can go to Aspen, although I really mean it, a ski chalet is _highly_ overrated, although ours has this really nice sauna-”

“ _David!_ ”

“What?”

“Are you avoiding coming home?”

David bites his lip. 

_Yes._

“No.”

“Really?”

“Okay, yes,” David says standing up from his kitchen table. “I’m avoiding going home.”

“Why?”

David mutters lowly to himself, embarrassed to say what he’s feeling out loud.

“What?”

“I’m scared!” David says, running a hand through his hair. “I’m nervous about seeing Patrick, because now that I’m in a place of _wanting him back_ , I’m scared that I’ve already lost my chance. That I waited too long.”

David sighs miserably to himself, sitting back down in his chair. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if I see him with that guy.”

“I told you, Patrick isn’t seeing Ken.”

“Okay, if it’s not Ken, then it’s someone else! Patrick is handsome, and smart, and so fucking nice. And I didn’t help things by lying to him back in December. What if he’s done? I mean, he probably is, it’s been a year,” David says rubbing his temples. 

“I think you need to stop worrying about hypotheticals and talk to him. Coming up with imaginary boyfriends isn’t healthy.”

David winces as he thinks about his hallucinations. “Yeah, tell me about it,” he murmurs to himself around a mouthful of pizza.

“Are you eating right now?”

“Yes, it’s dinner time.”

Silence. 

“Are you eating pizza?”

“Um. No?”

“David you can’t eat pizza for every meal, you’ll die.”

* * *

Patrick enters his dorm room just as Stevie hangs up her phone. 

“Talking to David?” Patrick asks, hanging up his jacket on the hook behind his door. 

“Yes, although when we go to New York next week, we’re going avoid pizza at all costs,” Stevie says sitting up from his twin bed.

Patrick grins and sits down at his desk. “He still has no clue I’m coming too?”

“Yes, I’m a master of deceit. This is also David we’re talking about so it really isn’t that difficult to trick him,” Stevie says standing up from his bed. 

Patrick bites his lip and starts pulling at his fingers. “Are you sure it’s a good idea that I crash his exhibit? What if he doesn’t want me there, I don’t want to ruin his night. This is important to him.”

“Oh, you won’t ruin his night, trust me.”

Patrick sighs. “I still can’t believe you convinced him not to pick us up from the airport,” Patrick says shaking his head.

“That was luck,” Stevie says slipping on her jacket. “The load-in for the exhibit and our flight landing at the same time was the universe’s way of telling us this will work.”

“And you do think it’ll work?” Patrick asks nervously. 

“If it doesn’t, I’m going to get very drunk and paddle boat myself across the Hudson to New Jersey.” Stevie picks up her bag and pats his shoulder on her way out.   


“See you tomorrow, Brewer,” Stevie throws over her shoulder and then she’s gone out the door.

Patrick stands up from his chair and plops himself onto his bed, cushioning his head with his arms. 

In a week he’ll be in New York City with Stevie to see David. To ask David for another chance. To fight for David if he’ll let him. 

Patrick knows deep in his bones that there’s something there, something worth saving. He just hopes David can see it too.

* * *

David’s has been to hundreds of art galleries. Every time he and his family traveled, David always spent a full day visiting them, dreaming one day of seeing one of his paintings hung on an immaculately white wall. 

But today David doesn’t have one painting hung up. He has nine. Nine of his paintings featured in an art exhibit in the heart of Chelsea. 

He walks through the space, weaving through the various bodies that are still setting up for tonight’s event, and his body is buzzed with energy. 

He scans across the gallery to the other students who have been chosen to show their work, beautiful pieces of art being loaded in one by one. His paintings are already hung in his section of the gallery, placed in a specific arrangement he had curated, an intricate story that David has written into each brushstroke.

His pieces are in his opinion the best he’s ever created, because they come from a deep crevice inside of him that he didn’t know existed until recently. It’s a love letter really to all the things he thought he didn’t want, but now knows he can’t live without. 

His paintings are inspired by home. He didn’t think he ever wanted it, living the quintessential small town life. It seemed too boring, too simple, too easy. But David now knows he pushed it away because he was afraid of it, afraid of wanting it too much and not getting it. 

But now he wants it. All of it. His mother cooking almost inedible meals for special occasions. His dad awkwardly trying to give him life advice. Alexis barging into his room demanding half of his closet. Stevie and her ability to always make a bottle of wine appear. Patrick and his smile, falling into his sweet kisses.

And his paintings show that. They’re vibrant and rich with color, dramatic and complex. 

So as it turns out, being happy isn’t simple at all. 

_Paint a wish. Any wish you find yourself thinking about often._

David takes out his phone to check the time, knowing Stevie’s flight will be landing soon. He’s regretful that he can’t go and pick her up, but she was very reassuring about making her own way to his apartment, the spare key borrowed from his mother. Or returned from his mother really. 

He’s about to call her one someone calls out his name. David turns around and immediately grimaces at the sight of Sebastien Raine. 

_My lord, why is he here?_

“David,” Sebastien says sauntering up to him. “Good to see you, as always.”

“Sebastien,” David says wearily. “What a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?”

“I was asked to take photos for tonight, many people from our artistic community will be here, they only wanted the best,” he replies with an arrogant smirk. 

“Mm,” David says pursing his lips.

_Cocky piece of shit._

“So these are yours,” Sebastien says walking around David to look at his paintings. David feels a spike of panic run through him, not liking sharing such an intimate part of himself with someone like Sebastien. 

“I must say, David,” Sebastien murmurs, carefully studying his painting inspired by Alexis. “I really have underestimated your talent. These are truly stunning.”

“Thank you,” David says lifting his chin. 

“Perhaps,” Sebastien says turning around and walking towards him. “We should revisit the conversation of working together? I can’t lie, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.”

“Oh I think you just have to try a little harder,” David replies with a grimace. 

Sebastien’s smirk drops and David can see malice bubbling behind his eyes. “Although, I also can’t deny the talent of the sculptor I passed by on my way in. Her pieces are simply divine. Seems you have a bit of competition,” Sebastien says with a sneer.“Shame to be outshone as you crawl your way up into being an artist here.”

David rolls his eyes and crosses his arms against his chest. “I think I’ll be okay.”

Sebastien’s eyes narrow as annoyance flickers through his face. 

“I can help you, you know,” Sebastien says lowering his voice and taking another step closer to David. “I can help you climb to the very top. We can get there together.”

David cocks an eyebrow at him and takes a large step back. “I’m fine getting there on my own.”

Sebastien scoffs at David. “You’re making a mistake.”

David shrugs his shoulders and turns on his heel, walking away. “Wouldn’t be my first, and won’t be my last!”

* * *

“I can’t believe we almost took the subway,” Stevie grumbles next to Patrick in their taxi to David’s apartment. 

“Don’t you have any sense of adventure?”

“I’m lying to my best friend so that his dumbass ex-boyfriend can sneak into an art gallery in New York City to win him back. I’m tapped out on adventure.”

Patrick grins next to her and looks back out of the window, watching the Manhattan skyline as they cross the Queensboro Bridge. 

He’s scared. 

Or more like he’s terrified. 

_Be honest, you’re shitting bricks._

But Patrick is determined. He flew to New York because there’s something deep in his soul that’s telling him to go back to David. To be with him. 

_Well, fuck._

He knew after his date with Ken that there will never be anyone for him except for David. And it’s terrifying to think about. But he’s pushing away his fear to do this. Pushing away the possibility for rejection to try again. 

_I love you David Rose. Do you love me?_

They make it to David’s apartment by four in the afternoon, Stevie unlocking the door of his apartment with the key she borrowed from Mrs. Rose. Patrick’s heart is pounding, the idea of entering David’s home making his hands sweaty. When Stevie pushes the door open, Patrick immediately feels the breath rush out of him as he takes in the space. 

There’s a small kitchen off to the left side of the door, dishes and glassware stacked neatly on the drying rack, a magazine flipped open on the counter. A small dining table with two chairs sit in the middle of the kitchen, a pizza box sitting atop of it, it’s contents most likely empty. Past the kitchen is the living room, a large brown leather sectional, grey shaggy rug, and a large flatscreen tv mounted on the wall. And beyond that are large windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling, light streaming in. 

Patrick smiles at the sight of the easel, splattered with paint and used with love, immediately transporting himself to the art room, laughing at the faces David made whenever he showed him one of his latest masterpieces. Patrick takes a deep breath through his nose, the smell of something spicy and warm with a hint of citrus coursing through his body. 

“He left me a bottle of wine,” Stevie says reading a small note left on the coffee table. “Dickface,” she says fondly, walking to the kitchen for a wine opener.

Patrick smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not gonna lie, I feel awkward being here,” Patrick says following her in the kitchen. “I feel like I’m trespassing.”

“You are,” Stevie says uncorking the bottle. “Which is why I’m glad we have that room at the Plaza David booked for me just in case all of this crashes and burns.”

Patrick winces. “Thanks.”

“I’m only saying it because I know it won’t,” Stevie says pouring each of them a glass. “Cheers to you still wanting to date David Rose.”

They clink glasses and drink the wine, Patrick welcoming the alcoholic buzz as it eases his tense muscles. 

“Now onto the real adventure,” Stevie says already pouring herself another glass. “What are you going to wear?”

* * *

“David,” Prof. Miller says as she walks up to him. David is currently chewing on two cheese squares and hastily swallows. “Just who I was looking for.”

“Hi,” David says wiping his mouth daintily with a napkin. 

“Prof. Akana and I were just chatting by your pieces, they are quite stunning,” she says kindly making David blush. 

“Thank you,” he replies sheepishly. 

“We were wondering what your plans for the summer were now that the semester is over? If you’d like, we can get you in touch with some programs so you can further your training until the fall. I have extensive connections here in the city,” Prof. Miller says. 

David smiles gratefully and clears his throat nervously. “I’m um, actually going home for the summer.”

“Oh?” Prof. Miller asks. “When will you be leaving?”

“My flight is this Tuesday.”

“Hm, and is there a lot of art back home?”

“No, definitely not,” David says with a grimace. “It’s small and kind of desolate. Not some place you can find many art galleries.”

“And yet, you’d like to go back?” She asks raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” David replies without hesitation. 

Prof. Miller’s lip twitches slightly, her eyes twinkling with something David can’t quite place. 

“I see.”

David sighs and starts wringing his hands together. “I know it seems like a waste to go back and not stay here, and I know it sounds like I’ll be wasting my art degree,” David says before taking a deep breath. “But I have a plan, well, ideas really, but they’re good. I think. I know that there isn’t any art there, really just a lot of farms and a mediocre Thai restaurant, but I’d like to go back once I’ve finished school. I will go back there once I’ve finished school,” David says firmly. 

Prof. Miller continues to look at David contemplatively. David lets out a deep breath. “I want to create something special. There’s no art there, but it’s beautiful.”

Prof. Miller stares at David for a moment more before she grins widely at him. 

“But your home does have art, David,” Prof. Miller says smiling warmly at him.   


“Excuse me?” David asks weakly.

“It has you,” she says clasping her hands onto his shoulders. “This city is drenched with art. We are most fortunate to be here. But art is to be shared. It is to be experienced. And there is nothing more commendable than you sharing your talent back home.”

David’s eyebrows raise up to his hairline in shock. 

“Your future is bright, David. Whether it be here or there, it will be bright because of _you._ ”

David swallows thickly and nods his head, blinking away his tears. “Thank you, professor,” David says, his voice hoarse with emotion. 

“Now, I believe it is almost time for the gallery to open,” Prof. Miller says patting his cheek affectionately. “I’m going to finish making my rounds and you go and get ready for tonight’s event. Many people to meet, you’ll want to look your best.”

* * *

“Stevie, we’re going to be late,” Patrick says restlessly in the taxi, anxiously looking out the window. 

“We’re showing up an hour before the thing opens, we are not going to be late.”

“I want to talk to David before everyone gets there. In private,” Patrick mutters staring at the traffic in front of them. 

“We’re six blocks away,” the taxi driver says gruffly from behind the wheel. 

“I’m gonna run,” Patrick says unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door.

“Brewer, we’ll be there in a few minutes!” Stevie shouts laughing at him. 

“Can't wait!” Patrick shouts back and begins the jog down the sidewalks of New York City towards David Rose.

* * *

David is pacing. David is pacing because he’s nervous. David is pacing in the front entrance because he’s _terrified._

Because even after his talk with Prof. Miller and giving himself a very long and inspirational speech last night about, “not needing anyone’s validation to know I’m a good artist and loving the work I’ve created and being proud no matter what”, all of that has been thrown out the window and he’s back to being an absolute mess.

He has an hour until the event begins, David obsessively checking over his outfit and making sure all of his paintings are hung straight. He smooths down his sweater, choosing to wear his Neil Barrett Neoprene Lightning Bolt Sweater, one of his favorites, knowing he’ll be needing an extra boost of confidence today. He absentmindedly strokes the indent of the labradorite crystal necklace resting on his chest underneath his sweater. 

David takes a deep breath, taking out his phone to call Stevie knowing she’ll be here soon. 

“Hi David,” Stevie’s voice grumbles in his ear. 

“Are you almost here?”

“It’s difficult to tell since I don’t know where I am.”

“Stevie, I’m freaking out,” David says continuing his pacing.

“David, it’s going to be okay.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you deserve this. Because you’ve worked hard. Because you’re anal retentive.”

“This isn’t helpful.”

“I’ll be there soon, just hold on-”

“What if I’m wrong?” David blurts out. 

“What?”

“What if I’m wrong? What if I’m not good enough? What if every choice I’ve made so far is a mistake and everything is going to crash and burn the moment I think it’ll be okay?” David says his insecurities crowding his mind.

“David, I know you think the universe is out to get you, but maybe just once trust that you can do this and that you deserve to be happy.”

“I know, I know, but I can’t shake this feeling of everything just falling apart, like everything always does. I’m scared. Because I can finally for the first time _really_ see something for myself in the future. Like I have this idea, for a store. Selling local products, because did you see the things they sold at the Spring Carnival last year? And they’re only sold _once a year_ which is ridiculous! And I would sell my art, because lord knows people back home need good artwork in their homes. See! I’m planning too far ahead and now I’m going to be broken when none of it comes true! This seems too good to be true. I should leave, I’m just going to go now, no one will even notice if I’m not here-”

“David.”

David turns around quickly, his face shocked. 

Patrick stands in front of him, dressed in a navy blue suit with a light blue dress shirt, a small smile on his face, looking so handsome that David aches. 

“Patrick?” David whispers. 

Patrick’s eyes brighten at hearing his name, David feeling his body erupting at the mere sight of him. 

“Oh no,” David whispers to himself. “I’m hallucinating again.”

“What?” Stevie asks confused on the other end. 

“I’m hallucinating,” David points at imaginary Patrick. “You’re not real!”

Patrick knits his eyebrows together. “David?”

“God, of course I start to hallucinate now of all times. Although, you’re usually in your baseball uniform, or those really tight jeans that make your ass look really good. What is this suit? Why have I never imagined this suit before?” David rambles to himself. 

“David?” Patrick says taking a tentative step towards his direction. 

“And you’ve never spoken before either. You kind of just sit there. Not that I’m complaining, this makes me feel a little less crazy if you respond to what I’m saying. God, you look so handsome.”

A beautiful grin stretches across Patricks face, taking another step closer. “David.”

“Is that all you can say? I guess I’ll have to take it. Although if we can somehow include some compliments? That would be nice. I think I could use a compliment right now because I’m honesty about to explode from the inside out because how am I supposed to do this-”

“ _David_ ,” Patrick says cupping David’s face with his palm and he immediately stops talking, his eyes glazing over, the warmth of Patrick’s hands seeping into his skin. 

“Oh my God,” David breathes out. “You’re real.”

Patrick laughs, stroking David’s cheek with his thumb. “Very.”

“W-what, h-how, why are you here?” David asks confused. 

Patrick shrugs his shoulders. “Stevie.”

“Stevie? _Stevie?_ ” David shouts into the phone he’s still holding. “ _Stevie what the fuck?_ ”

“I’ll be at the coffee shop a block away, call me when you’re done!” Stevie says before hanging up. 

“ _Are you fucking kidding me_?” David says wildly, ripping himself away from Patrick and going back to pacing back and forth quickly. “Shunned, she’s shunned! And taken off my will!”

“David-”

“I should have known! How could I have not known?”

“David-”

“I’m going to kill her-”

“ _David,_ ” Patrick says again, stepping close to David to take his face in both of his hands this time, staring into David’s eyes. David loses his breath.

“Oh,” David whispers. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😗😗😗


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is near and as sad as I am to be closing this chapter of my life, I'm excited to work on a new fic. Once again, you all have been exceptionally kind. Enjoy this chapter dear friends.

Patrick drops David’s face and steps back, the urge to touch him again making his hands twitch. But he needs to do this properly. He needs to go slow. 

“What are you doing here?” David asks weakly. Patrick’s mouth twitches.

“I was in the neighborhood. I heard the pizza here is pretty good.”

David’s lip quirks up slightly. “You travelled hundreds of miles for pizza?”

“Like you haven’t?” Patrick says with a grin. 

David presses his lips together tightly, the crooked grin Patrick hasn’t seen in over a year peaking through. 

_There you are._

“I have actually yes. But that doesn’t explain why you’re _here_.”

Patrick feels his nerves kick back in, shoving his hands into his pockets and clearing his throat. 

“I thought we should talk."

David closes his eyes tightly and tilts his head upwards, his mouth pressed in a hard line. He drops his head back and opens his eyes, staring into Patrick’s soul. 

“You want to talk now?”

“Yes.”

“Just as I’m about to be presented in my very first exhibit?” David asks quirking an eyebrow upward. 

Patrick’s hands clam up and his heart begins to race, but he stands his ground. “Yes.”

David regards him quietly for a moment and Patrick feels his nerves beginning to shake inside of him. 

“I’m not very good at talking,” David says and Patrick’s heart drops. 

_Fuck._

David’s mouth quirks up to the side and he lets out a deep sigh before turning around. “Come with me, there’s something I need to show you.”

He walks quickly into the gallery, Patrick following him, his hands clammy. Things are still being set up, caterers walking back and forth with various trays. There are several sculptures and paintings filling the space, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. David walks until he reaches the back corner, standing in front of a wall of paintings. 

“These are mine,” David murmurs quietly. 

Patrick’s eyes gaze over the paintings, beautiful and vibrant colors taking over his senses, Patrick’s breath hitching as he takes in the beautiful world David has created. 

There’s a painting of the town square, the weeping willow behind the library, Valley Hill Park, the ice cream parlor in Elm Valley, the drive-in movie theater in Elmdale, all painted with small brushstrokes, the colors dotted onto the canvas and blending together, illustrating the small town life that Patrick is so fond of, is so grateful for. Each scene is on its own separate canvas, but they are placed next to each other in a line on the wall, the edges of each painting a continuation to the next, connecting together to create one wide landscape. 

On the other wall are four more paintings; not landscapes, but people. 

There is a painting of two people locked in a tight embrace, their heads tucked together closely, hands clasped, swaying to music that is embedded into every brushstroke. A tea party, one girl and one boy hangs high, dainty porcelain cups held in their hands carefully, swirls of steam sweeping around the canvas. There is painting of a woman, a mischievous smirk on her face, a gleam in her eyes as dark hair frames her face. She stands tall as beautiful white roses surround her, cradling her body protectively. 

And lastly is a portrait. A portrait of a man painted painted from various shades of blue, his face strong and steady. And his eyes, his eyes striking but soft, brown and warm that twinkles teasingly. There’s a soft smile on his face, a smile that feels private and intimate, and oh so familiar. 

Patrick turns his head towards David, his eyes wide. David gives him a shy smile and looks away. Patrick turns his head back towards the painting.

Patrick didn’t always understand what David painted, but he understands this one. 

Because Patrick realizes at that moment, as he stares at the portrait of himself, that David Rose is in love with him. 

“I’ve always wanted to live in New York,” David says quietly beside him.

“It felt like I was meant to be here. It felt like this grand adventure I could use to fill in some void I didn’t know I had,” David says, his voice thick with emotion. 

“But there was a void because I let there be one. I didn’t let myself fill it with what I could have, what I already had. I thought I wanted all the parties, fame and attention because it sounded fun, and it can be sometimes, especially if you’re able to snag an invite to Charlize Theron’s halloween parties. But they’re all just petty distractions really,” David says waving his hand.

Patrick tears his eyes away from his portrait to watch David let himself be vulnerable. 

“But then my parents started asking me for more of my paintings to hang up in the house. And Alexis is always texting me about school and what she wants to do in college. And Stevie is Stevie, thank God. And then there’s you,” David whispers shyly, his eyes peaking through his dark lashes.

“I wanted to do something special, something important. And our town didn’t seem good enough to give that to me. But I can’t expect anyone to _give_ me anything. I need to make it. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to make something special, something beautiful,” David says with determination dripping from his voice. He turns his body towards Patrick and looks him in the eyes, so beautiful and so strong. 

“New York is big and loud, and full of beautiful things, and I thought chasing it would lead me to something special. But I don’t want to chase New York anymore,” David says shaking his head, scared and brave. “I think I’d rather chase you.”

Patrick feels a sharp pain shoot up his body, up to his skull until it settles into his bones, humming gently, something tender washing through him.

“I lied to you, back in December. I wish I hadn’t, but I did. And I know there’s a chance that I’ve messed all this up now, like I always do,” David says with a wet laugh.

“There’s a lot of people in this world, a lot of people who you can meet and be happy with. So I understand if this is all a bit too much, if I’m a bit too much,” David says gesturing at himself. “Especially because I’m not good at this, at expressing my feelings. But I’m trying and I can wait. I’ll be here, if you want me,” David says with a soft smile. “Well, maybe not _here_ , I have to go track Stevie down and commit a murder. But you know what I mean.”

David takes a deep breath and smiles at Patrick, open and honest and Patrick feels his world spinning around him. 

“I can be the one to wait this time,” David says quietly and then turns on his foot and begins to walk away. 

Patrick stares at David’s back and thinks to himself, he could make this into a game if he wanted to. He could stretch this out, make David work for it, make him wait for Patrick. It’s to be expecting isn’t? A continuous game of cat and mouse.

But Patrick doesn’t want to wait. He doesn’t want to make David wait. He really just wants to kiss David Rose. Like now.

So he runs after him, wraps a hand around David’s arm and stops him, delighting in the way David looks at him in shock before crashing their lips together, smiling into the kiss and letting his world be wrapped up in David. 

* * *

David’s mind goes blank for a second before his brain processes the fact that he’s being kissed senseless by Patrick Brewer, his hand coming up to wrap around the back of his neck, sighing into his mouth. 

_Okay, this works too._

Patrick’s kisses feel familiar, feel like coming home, and something inside of David unfurls, as it it’s been wrapped up tightly within in. David sighs gently again and Patrick takes the opportunity to kiss David deeper, licking into his mouth making David dizzy. 

David doesn’t know how long they kiss until he leans his forehead against Patrick’s, both of them gasping for breath. 

“So, I don’t have to wait?” David asks with a teasing smile. 

Patrick laughs and pulls him back in, David smiling into his mouth, winding his arms around Patrick’s neck and pulling him closer. 

“No more waiting, David,” Patrick says when they part, his arms wrapped tightly around David’s waist. “I just want to be with you.”

David blushes and looks away, his lips pressed tightly as he tries to hold back his grin. 

“Are you sure, though?” David asks hesitantly. “You can see other people if you wanted to,” David swallowing thickly even though the image of Patrick being with someone else makes him sick. 

“David, you’ve ruined me for anyone else,” Patrick says with a bright smile. “I don’t mind though, if it means I can have you.”

David lets out a shocked laugh, his eyes growing wet with tears and kisses Patrick again.

“Stay,” David whispers pulling away, revealing his deepest secret. “Always, stay.”

Patrick cups David’s jaw. 

“For you, anything,” and kisses him again. 

* * *

They stay wrapped in each other’s arms for ten more minutes before reluctantly letting go to find Stevie. But their hands find each other, their palms sliding easily together as if they were never apart. Patrick knows there’s still so much they need to talk about, to work through. But for the first time in over a year, Patrick finally feels whole again, David’s warm hand in his keeping his heart steady. 

Stevie smirks at them when they find her sitting at a table in a Starbucks around the corner, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. 

“Oh wow, are you two dating?” She asks sarcastically, sipping her coffee. 

“You’re a terrible, terrible person,” David says with no real malice, a soft smile on his lips. 

“I know,” Stevie replies, crossing her arms and leaning back. “So, what now?”

“Now we go and eat cheese with pretentious art people,” David replies. 

“Oh, so like a regular Saturday night at your house?”

“I’m really struggling to appreciate you right now."

They do just that, Stevie loading up a tiny paper plate with small blocks of cheese piled high, the three of them walking around the gallery and admiring the artwork of David’s fellow classmates. Patrick and David walk hand in hand, and when David needs his hands to talk, Patrick keeps his hand rested on the small of David’s back, or thrown over David’s shoulder, or around his waist, needing to constantly be touching David to remind himself that this is all very real, that he’s real. 

Patrick watches David have a very animated conversation about the current Louis Vuitton Spring collection, his arm wrapped around David’s waist, rubbing his thumb into his hipbone.

Patrick knows the conversations they’re going to have will be difficult. There are so many decisions they need to make together. Because as terrifying as it is to think of the future, they need to talk about it. 

Patrick lets his arm drop from David’s waist, noticing David’s cup is empty. David immediately turns his head towards Patrick mid-sentence, his eyebrows furrowed worriedly. 

“I’m going to get us more water,” Patrick says reassuringly. David instantly looks relieved and Patrick kisses his cheek and walks to the refreshments table, also scooping up some chocolate covered strawberries for David. 

“Well, hello there,” a voice says from behind him. Patrick turns around to see a man in a tattered black sweater with a large camera around his neck. “You look like someone I wouldn’t mind getting to know better,” he says with a smirk stepping closer to Patrick. 

“Um,” Patrick says taking a step back. “No thanks. I’m here with somebody,” Patrick says gesturing back to David. “So I’m just gonna bring this to him-”

“You’re here with David Rose?” He asks, his tone dropping from flirtatious to serious and Patrick immediately dislikes him, hating how he just said David’s name. 

“Yes, I am,” he says firmly. 

The man narrows his eyes at him and looks behind him at David. “I would be careful if I were you.”

“Excuse me?” Patrick asks taken aback. 

“David Rose is known to be quite the heartbreaker,” he says.

“Really?” Patrick asks cocking his eyebrow. 

“He has a reputation for making many loose acquaintances, best for you to steer clear from him and occupy your time with better company,” he says in a cool tone. “David Rose is not a nice person.”

“Oh,” Patrick says nodding his head. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing that I thoroughly enjoy occupying my time with people who aren’t very nice.”

Patrick turns on his foot and walks away, shaking his head when the voice calls out again. “Don’t be fooled,” he says with a sneer. “If I couldn’t get David Rose, what makes you think you will?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick answers honestly. “But I’m going to try anyways.”

The man smiles cruelly at him. “Oh to be so naive. Just so you’re aware, David and I have a long history together. We’ve spent many nights getting to know each other intimately.”

“Who he has allowed into his life in the past doesn’t matter much to me,” Patrick says shaking his head. “As long as I’m in it now.”

And with that, Patrick walks away with David’s water and plate of strawberries. Because Patrick means it, he doesn’t care about who has been in David’s life, as long as Patrick is there beside him now. 

Although it does bother him that _that_ is who David has let into his life, someone so cruel and arrogant.

If Patrick has to spend every day erasing people like that from David's life, he'll do it with gentle kisses and kind words. Loving David has never felt like work to him. 

When he walks back towards David, Stevie has wandered off somewhere, most likely to sneak herself some wine, and David is alone, his back turned towards him, facing the painting of the weeping willow.

“Hi,” Patrick murmurs softly, passing David the plate of strawberries, holding the cup of water in his hand. 

“Hi,” David says softly. 

“How are you doing?” Patrick asks gently, his other hand reaching for David’s. 

“Good,” David breathes out squeezing Patrick’s hand. “I feel good.”

They’re quiet, both staring at the weeping willow together. 

“This was the first one I painted,” David says softly. 

“It’s beautiful, David,” Patrick says gently. 

“I painted it when Stevie told me about your date,” David says with his mouth twitching upward. 

“What?” Patrick asks, rearing back in shock. 

“She told me you had a date with a cute guy,” he says turning towards Patrick with a grin. “And all I could think about was running underneath that willow tree. I always ran there when I needed to get away when something felt too much. And the idea of you being with someone else felt like that.” David turns back to the painting his eyes running rapidly over the canvas. “But I don’t want to run away when things get hard now. Which is why I painted this. This is a reminder that sitting dramatically underneath a weeping willow won’t solve any of my problems, even though my mother would very much approve.”

Patrick is staring at David when he says, “I hated his shoes.”

“What?” David asks, turning his face towards David in confusion. 

“They guys I went on a date with. Ken. I hated his shoes and that was all I could think about the entire night. They were like long and pointy-”

“But squared off at the toe?” David asks with a smile. 

“Yes! So weird,” Patrick murmurs. 

“And that’s all you thought about?” David asks hesitantly. 

“Well that, and also you,” Patrick replies easily. 

“Me?”

“Yup. But honestly David,” Patrick says wrapping an arm around David’s waist and pulling him in. “There wasn’t a moment when I wasn’t thinking about you.”

David looks away biting his lip, his eyes screwed shut as he tries to keep his grin down. 

“Well, if we’re being honest here,” David says pursing his lips together. “I also couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Patrick beams at David, leaning his forehead against his and nuzzling their noses together. 

“As relieved as I am to not have to deal with the both of you pining anymore,” Stevie says from behind them. “I have to ask you guys to tone it down when I’m around. 

* * *

They leave the gallery around midnight, David high off the praises of his classmates and professors and Sebastien’s scowling face, cramming into the backseat of a taxi back uptown. Stevie, after managing to trick the bartenders to give her wine, is pressed flush against David, her head lolling back and forth, her cheeks stained red. 

The moment they step foot into his apartment, Stevie demands food. So David orders her Chinese, the three of them sitting crossed legged on his living room floor, passing paper cartons of garlic chicken and potstickers around, Patrick laughing when Stevie throws pieces of fortune cookies not David’s hair. Stevie passes out on the floor at 2am and David carries her into his bed, tucking her in and brushing the hair from her face as he’s suddenly overcome with his affection for her. 

They were just two lost souls who happened to find each other. But God, is David grateful.

He and Patrick talk on his couch until he sun begins to rise, their words whispered between them, filling each other in of the year they’ve missed together. David’s head is tucked underneath Patrick’s chin, his hand over Patrick’s heart as the steady beat vibrates into his bones. 

Patrick is stroking his back, running his fingers up and down David’s spine, his breath evening out. 

It’s at that moment he says it, quietly as sunlight streams through his windows. 

“I love you.”

Patrick stops stroking David’s back, and David looks up at his face, watches it unravel into a beautiful smile David, much like the one he imagined alone on the bench in The Gardens. Only this one is better, because it’s real and brighter than the early morning sun and he decides that that is how Patrick should always look and David loves him so much. 

David reaches up and brushes a tear from Patrick’s eyes, Patrick catching his hand and kissing the center of his palm. 

“I love you, too.”

* * *

“Of all the places in New York City to go to, _this_ was on the top of your list?” David asks disbelievingly with his arms crossed against his chest. 

“Yes,” Stevie and Patrick say in unison as they take a selfie in front of the Ghostbusters Firehouse. 

“I shouldn’t complain,” David sighs. “At least you guys aren’t asking me to take you to Times Square on a Sunday afternoon.”

“No, David that’s also on our list,” Patrick says sticking his tongue out with Stevie in this fifth selfie. 

“Oh lord,” David mutters to himself. “I’m going to need more coffee.”

They find a small coffee shop a block away, Stevie and David sitting on a bench outside as Patrick gets them their orders. 

“So,” Stevie says leaning back against the bench. “You and Patrick are good now?”

“We still need to talk,” David responds smoothing out his pants. “There’s a lot to unpack before I can say we’re totally okay. But,” David says with a deep breath. “We’re getting there.”

“Thank God, because you have been incredibly needy this past year,” Stevie says with a teasing grin. 

David rolls his eyes at her, his mouth pressed together to keep his grin down. 

“Okay,” Patrick says coming out of the coffee shop. “Tea for you,” handing Stevie her cup. “Caramel macchiato, skim, two sweetners and a sprinkle of cocoa powder for you,” he says to David as he passes him his cup. 

“You remembered my coffee order?” David asks furrowing his eyebrows. 

Patrick barks out a laugh. “David, I think it’s safe to assume I remember everything about you,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes.

David blushes and looks away as his lips smoosh to one side of his face. Patrick takes that opportunity to kiss his cheek while Stevie makes gagging noises from besides them. 

David takes them to Times Square, begrudgingly with the promise of buying a pretzel, taking pictures of the two of gallivanting around 42nd street, their faces young and free. And when Patrick pulls David in for a picture, smushing his lips against his face, both of them smiling too much to actually be kissing, David lets him, because he’s happy. So, so happy. 

They make it back to his apartment, Stevie falling face first into his couch and falling asleep immediately, David pulling off her shoes and throwing a blanket over her. 

Patrick enters David’s room after showering, toweling his hair dry when he sees David sitting up against his headboard, wearing a tight black shirt and grey sweatpants. Their eyes meet and neither of them say anything for a moment before Patrick drops the towel he’s holding and lunges for David, wrapping his hand around David’s neck and bringing their lips together frantically. 

David makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and surges up to kiss Patrick back, rising up to his knees so they're both kneeling on his bed, hands wildly grabbing at each other, David gripping Patrick’s shirt with his fingers tightly. Patrick pulls away just enough to rip his shirt off, David’s hands roaming down his naked back. 

“Off,” Patrick says hoarsely grabbing at David’s shirt. “Off.”

David pulls his shirt off, hands reaching to pull Patrick back in, their tongues tangling together. David feels himself fall backwards into his pillows, Patrick’s weight pressing him down, David groaning up into his mouth. 

David pushes upwards, connecting their hips together and grinding up, Patrick dropping his mouth in shock giving David the chance to roll himself on top of Patrick. Not wanting to be outdone, Patrick pushes up as well, and soon they’re wrestling to see who can be on top, still kissing desperately. 

Patrick weaves his hand into David’s hair and pulls, David gasping and Patrick rolls him onto his back. Only he ends up miscalculating his strength and pushes them too hard, the both of them tumbling off the bed, David yelping as his butt hits the hardwood floor below him, Patrick landing ungracefully on top of him with a loud, “Oof!”

They lay in a tanged heap on the floor, both breathing heavily as they try to catch their breath. Patrick manages to roll himself off of David and onto the floor next to him, his chest heaving. Suddenly David feels the vibrations of Patrick’s laughter against his arm and soon they’re both giggling uncontrollably, clutching onto their stomachs unable to stop. 

“Come here, come here,” Patrick says breathlessly, reaching for David with his eyes still crinkled in laughter, and David tucks himself underneath Patrick’s chin. 

“Slow?” David asks quietly once they’ve calmed down. 

Patrick nods against his head. “Slow,” he agrees. 

They settle back into bed, this time Patrick tucked into David’s back, arms wrapped around his waist tightly. 

“Goodnight, Patrick,” David whispers into the dark. 

Patrick kisses the back of David’s neck. “Goodnight, David.”

* * *

On the last full day they have in New York, David takes them to his favorite places in the city. He takes them to the MET, Lincoln Center, and his favorite pizza place, munching on slices of dollar pizza on a bench in Central Park. 

David tells them about his favorite things about New York, the fashion, the food and the culture. He looks alive and excited, and Patrick is once again hit with the thought that David belongs here. But does Patrick belong here?

He belongs with David, that much he’s certain of. He wants a future with him. But where they spend their future together is nagging at Patrick’s brain. 

As the day winds down, David takes them on a stroll along the East River, his arm tucked into Patrick’s as Stevie walks along side them. The two of them are chatting about what to get for dinner, or more like David is telling them what they are getting for dinner as Patrick’s mind wanders further and further away. He doesn’t realize they’ve stopped walking until David is tugging him down to sit on a bench facing the water. 

Patrick blinks at him, and shakes his head. 

“Where did you go?” David asks quietly, rubbing his thumb along Patrick’s palm. 

“Just thinking,” Patrick murmurs. “Where’s Stevie?”

“She headed back to the apartment first. I thought you and I should talk for a little bit,” David says nervously, looking down at their joined hands. 

Patrick sighs and nods his head, looking out towards the water. They’re both quiet, listening to the water lapping at the edge. 

“I only have three more years of school left,” Patrick begins. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you wait for me?”

“Of course I can,” David says furrowing his eyebrows together. “But what do you mean wait-”

“The minute I graduate I’ll be here,” Patrick says quickly as he sees David’s face begin to warp with panic. “I promise, I won’t make you wait longer than that.”

David blinks at him. “Here? You’re going to move here?”

“Yeah,” Patrick responds hesitantly, confusion rocking through him. “Unless you don’t want me to…?”

“No, no, that’s not it,” David says shaking his head. “You want to move to New York?”

“I mean, yes?” Patrick says unsure. 

“Why?”

“Because you’re here,” Patrick responds obviously. 

“Okay,” David says pulling away slightly and pressing his lips together. “You’re telling me you want to move here?”

“Yes.”

“Because of me.”

“Yes.”

“And no other reason?”

“David, being with you is a pretty big reason,” Patrick says confused. 

“Okay, but that’s not the _only_ reason,” David says adamantly. “That shouldn’t be the only reason is what I’m saying.”

“David-”

“Do you like New York?” David asks turning to him and looking Patrick in the eyes. 

“Yes I like New York,” Patrick responds with some frustration in his voice. 

“Do you like it enough to want to live here?”

“I think so.”

“No, Patrick,” David says shaking his head. “I really need you to think. Do you _want_ to live here? Do you think you’ll be happy here?”

Patrick knits his eyebrows together and really thinks. He does like New York. There’s so much life here. It’ll be interesting living here every day. And he knows he’ll be happy being with David. 

But he loves home. He loves his small town. He loves the fields, he loves the quiet, he loves the stars in the sky. 

He loves his family, his friends, his life there.

But Patrick also loves David. 

“Do you want to live here?” David asks again quietly. 

_Answer truthfully._

And as difficult as it is, Patrick says, “No, I don’t want to live here.”

“Then don’t live here,” David says reaching for Patrick’s hands. 

“But you’re here,” Patrick says quietly, his heart breaking. “David, I can’t go back without us,” he says his voice cracking. 

“But we need to make decisions together. You can’t make decisions like that without talking to me. If this is going to work, then we need to work together, as a couple,” David says firmly. “You can’t go making these grand sacrifices for me, it’s not fair. We need to talk about it and make a, um-”

“Compromise?” Patrick asks with a weak smile. 

“Yes, that."

Patrick lets out a wet laugh, leaning his forehead against David’s. “Since when have you gotten so wise?”

“I’ve always been this wise, you’ve just never appreciated it before,” David responds teasingly. 

Patrick closes his eyes and smiles sadly at him. “Now what?”

“Ask me,” David says gently. 

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me if I want to live here.”

Patrick pulls back from David in confusion. “Do you want to live here?”

David smiles at him, open and real. “No.”

“What?” Patrick says shocked.

“I don’t want to live in New York,” David says with a grin. 

“B-But you love it here!”

“I do,” he says nodding his head. “But can I tell you a secret? I don’t really like it here,” David says, his face crinkling.

“What?” Patrick asks, his eyebrows raising up to his hairline. 

“I don’t like it here. It’s loud and stinky here,” David says waving his hand. “Seriously, it’s disgusting here sometimes. Especially during the summer with the heat. My knits have been struggling,” David says with a grimace. 

Patrick cracks a smile. “Oh we can’t have that.”

David smiles too. “No we cannot. And the great thing about New York is that it’ll always be here if I do miss it. I just need to hop on my parent’s plane and I’ll be dining at Per Se by the evening.”

“Are you sure?” Patrick asks hesitantly. “New York makes sense for you, David.”

“Because of my impeccable taste and superior style?” David asks jokingly. “I mean, of course I’m made for New York, but New York isn’t made for me,” he says simply. 

Patrick still looks very unsure, unconvinced that David would want to give up all of this for their small town life. “I want you to be happy,” Patrick murmurs. 

David smiles and squeezes Patrick’s hand. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. Why do you think I made all of those paintings? I’m going back for me, I promise. Besides, I have a plan,” he says smugly. 

“A plan?” Patrick asks raising his eyebrows. 

“Yes, it’s a brilliant plan actually.”

“Are you going to tell me what this plan is?”

“One day,” David says, giving Patrick a chaste kiss on the lips. “Actually I’m probably going to need your help with it,” he says with a sheepish smile. 

Patrick laughs and wraps his hand around the back of David’s neck. “You have my number,” he murmurs before kissing him. 

* * *

They fly back home in David’s private jet, Stevie demanding complimentary glasses of Champagne and a charcuterie board. The flight attendant gives her apple juice and nuts. 

When they land, Alexis is there to pick them all up, her grin large and bright as she watches Patrick exit the plane. 

“See button,” she says tapping his note. “I knew you’d stay.”

The drive home is chaotic, Alexis and David fighting up front while Stevie and Patrick munch on chips in the back. 

“Ew, David!”

“Fall off a bridge Alexis!”

Patrick catches David’s eye in the rearview mirror and smiles at him, David smirking back with his crooked grin and Patrick lets peace settle down into his bones with that smile. 

They drop Stevie off first and while Patrick is taking her luggage out of the trunk, he sees David hugging her tightly, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. 

“This is very unnecessary,” she murmurs into his sweater. 

“I know,” David replies and hugs her tighter. 

David is adamant about driving Patrick home without Alexis, having reached his limit with her after she recounted a very embarrassing story about him being stuck up a tree when he was twelve while wearing one of his mother’s wigs. 

Patrick is still laughing even as he moves up to the passenger seat as David is driving out of his driveway. 

“We’ll see who’s laughing when I ask your mom to show me your baby photos,” David grumbles from behind the wheel. Patrick decreases his laughter to an occasional snicker. 

His mom is out the door just as David is pulling in, his dad right behind him. 

“I saw you five days ago,” Patrick says laughing into her hair as she latches herself to him. 

“I’m just happy to see you sweetheart,” she says cupping his cheek with her hand. She lets go of him and turns towards David who is very awkwardly crouching by the car. 

“Hello David,” she says warmly. David stands up straighter and smiles shyly at her. 

“H-Hi Mr. and Mrs. Brewer,” David stutters out.

“Thank you for looking after Patrick in New York, David,” Patrick’s dad says wrapping an arm around his mom’s shoulders. 

“It was no problem really,” David replies playing with he sleeves of his sweater. 

Patrick smiles at David and reaches for his hand, threading their fingers together. David’s eyes widen and his cheeks are stained red, making Patrick hold on tighter. 

“Can David come over for dinner tomorrow?” He asks his parents while still looking at David. 

“Of course he can,” he mother says quickly. “David, you are always welcome here.”

“I’ll be making my famous meatloaf tomorrow, so you’ll be in for a treat,” his dad says with a wide grin. 

“Oh dear, make sure you don’t eat too much beforehand, his meatloaf is hefty,” his mom says patting David’s shoulder affectionately. “We should head inside now and get dinner ready.”

“But I want to ask David about this painting I got from Mr. Tracker’s garage sale the other day. I think it’s really worth something, it looks very old-”

“Clint, let's give the boys a moment alone,” she says with a pointed look.

“Oh right, take your time Patrick!” He calls out as his mom tugs him into the house. 

Patrick shakes his head smiling, feeling very fond for his parents right now. 

“So, dinner?” David asks with his eyes twinkling and his mouth pulled to one side. 

“Yeah, sorry, I should have asked you before. But, I’d really like if you could come over tomorrow night,” Patrick says biting his lip. 

“I mean, I think you can convince me,” David says draping his arms around Patrick’s shoulders. “What are the dessert options?”

“My mom makes a mean apple pie,” Patrick says wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him in closer. “And there might be some ice cream to go on top,” he whispers between their lips. 

“Mm,” David hums rubbing his thumb into the back of Patrick’s neck. “Will there be whipped cream?”

“I think I can arrange that,” Patrick murmurs before pulling David all the way in and kissing him gently.

“I think I can make an appearance,” David says pulling away. “Although I might need a little more incentive.”

Patrick growls and crashes their lips together, Patrick licking into his mouth, David’s laughter tickling his ear. 

_Stay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We will now return to our regularly scheduled fluff.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a tiny bit of sexy times in this, and I really mean tiny. 
> 
> Only one more chapter to go!

“So, you and Patrick,” Alexis says casually while twirling a piece of licorice with her fingers. She and David are lounging in their movie theater, snacks in between them as _Pretty Woman_ plays on the screen. 

“Mm, what about it?” David asks popping a cheeseball into his mouth. 

“So, like, you guys are good?”

“Yes, we’re good.”

“Like really good?”

“Yes, Alexis.”

“But like, _really_ good-”

“Alexis,” David huffs out. “We’re good. Everything is okay.”

“Okay,” Alexis says. “Just checking.”

They both stop talking and it’s quiet again except for the sound of their chewing and Julia Robert’s voice. 

“Okay, but are you actually good though-”

“Oh my God, Alexis!” David says throwing his hands up with frustration. 

“Sorry, David! I just want to make sure you and button talked about everything.”

“Okay you need to stop calling him button,” David says rolling his eyes. “And Patrick and I have talked about everything.”

“Even the bet?”

“What?” David asks with surprise. 

“Did you guys talk about the bet?” Alexis asks again. 

David chews his lower lip. “No, I don’t think we need to.”

“David, you need to talk about that. It’s the reason why you guys broke up at all!”

“Okay, but that’s in the past now,” David replies stubbornly. “Why bring up the past?

“To like make sure you're actually over it.”

“Well I am,” David replies shoving a handful of cheese balls in his mouth. 

“Really?”

“Ugh, I don’t know Alexis!” David says rubbing his temples. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You know that Patrick loves you right?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you think you owe it to yourself to know why?”

“What?” David asks confused. 

“He fell in love with you during that stupid bet. Don’t you want to know how it went from that to this?”

David stares at Alexis silently. “Who the hell are you and what have you done with my sister?”

“I’m just like _super_ in tune with kinds of things David,” Alexis says with a grin.

* * *

“David, can I get you another slice of pie?” Patrick’s mom says standing up from the table. 

“No thank you, Mrs. Brewer. I really couldn’t take another bite,” David replies after polishing off his second slice of apple pie. 

“Well, I’ll make sure to pack you some to take home,” she says with a wink. 

“You’re a blessing,” David says with fervor, making Patrick and his dad chuckle. 

“Well boys, why don’t you head upstairs and relax,” his dad says also standing up from the table. “Your mom and I will clean up,” he says with a wink at Patrick. 

Patrick flushes to the tips of his ears. “Thanks dad.”

“Thank you again for dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Brewer,” David says with a bashful smile. 

“It was our pleasure,” his mom says from the doorway into the kitchen. “And we mean it David. You are _always_ welcome here,” she says with a warm smile. 

David tucks his head down, his face flushing as brightly as Patrick’s, his lips pressed to one side. 

Patrick takes David’s hand and pulls him upstairs to his bedroom, his heart beating quickly at the thought of David being in his room again after so long. 

David sits at the end of his bed, playing with the rings on his fingers as he looks around shyly. “Not much has changed.”

“No,” Patrick says shaking his head and sitting down next to him after closing his door. “It feels like a lot has though, doesn’t it?”

“It has,” David replies softly. 

“Come here,” Patrick murmurs, tugging at David’s hand until they’re lying down on his bed, David’s head resting on Patrick’s chest. 

“How’s your family?” Patrick asks, his fingers running up and down David’s spine. 

David huffs out. “They’re the same. A little more clingy than I would have liked, but I expect it to dwindle once the week is over.”

“They missed you,” Patrick replies squeezing David a little. “We all did."

“I don’t know why,” David mutters. “I came back, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Patrick breathes out, kissing the top of David’s head. “Yes, you did.”

They’re both quiet, just the sounds of their breathing and the cicadas outside as their soundtrack. 

“Can you tell me about it?” David whispers into the skin of Patrick’s neck. 

“Tell you what?” Patrick asks tracing patterns onto David’s back. 

“About the bet.”

Patrick immediately freezes, his body tensing up, something thick coiling in his guy. “A-are you sure?”

David nods against his chest. “I’m ready to talk about it. We have to talk about it.”

Patrick takes a shuddering breath and wraps his arms around David a little tighter. “Then I have to go back to the beginning, I guess. Back to freshman year.”

“Freshman year?” David asks shocked. 

“Yeah,” Patrick says huffing out a laugh. “This all started from the moment I saw you.”

“Cheesy. And when was that?”

“Biology room, first day of classes. You walked in and I couldn’t stop staring. And I haven’t been able to stop myself since.”

“Okay, but what does this have to do with-”

“I’m getting to it, I promise,” Patrick says kissing the top of David’s head. “I had always wanted to talk to you since then. You were so mysterious and handsome, but I was always too shy to do it, and it didn’t help that I didn’t know _why_ I had these feelings. Then you talked to me senior year about my brush washing skills-”

“-Which I’m sure still needs some work-”

“-And I couldn’t get enough of you. I wanted more time with you. And we were becoming friends, but I was still in denial about my feelings.”

“Hm,” David hums. “That makes two of us.”

“And then one day, Brock saw us talking and put two and two together pretty quickly. I guess I wasn’t very good at hiding my feelings for you.”

“I mean, I didn’t realize either,” David mutters. 

“I said no at first, when he first suggested the bet. But then he said that if I wasn’t interested in you, that he would try to go after you instead.”

“He said that?” David asks shocked. 

“Yeah, and that got me right then and there. I just imagined you and Brock and it got to me. So I took the bet and told him he had to stay away from you then.”

“You were jealous,” David says with awe. 

“Very jealous,” Patrick says nodding his head. “I know I shouldn’t have been, I had no right to be really. But I somehow convinced myself that I was doing you a favor. That I was protecting you. I should have known he said all that because he knew I would fall for it,” Patrick takes a deep breath. “He, he was angry at me for getting the position he wanted. He made it really difficult for me at practice. He’d try to bring me down as much as he could, whenever he could.”

“He bullied you,” David whispers to himself. 

“He did,” Patrick swallows. “We’re okay now. We actually talked a couple of weeks ago. We might even be able to be friends.”

“You want to be friends with Brock?” David asks sitting up, staring down at Patrick in shock. 

“Yeah,” Patrick replies nervously. “Does that upset you?”

David is quiet for a moment, his eyebrows knitted together. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, actually I think I’m relieved,” David says resting his head back on Patrick’s chest. “I disliked Brock because he was cruel to you, I didn’t have a vendetta against him other than that. If it means you get closure, I’m happy for you.”

Patrick rakes his fingers through David’s hair. “He came up with the bet because he was feeling hurt. And I took it because I wanted to hurt him. I’m not proud of that, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling bad about it.”

“It’s okay,” David murmurs into his chest. 

“It’s not, David. I used you. I used you to hurt someone,” Patrick swallows thickly. “What I did was wrong.”

“It was,” David agrees. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about it?”

“I was scared you would leave,” Patrick whispers. “I knew what it meant for you to bring your walls down to let people in. I was afraid you wouldn’t let anyone in ever again. That you wouldn’t believe that you deserved to be treated well.”

“You said you don’t regret it,” David says quietly. 

“I regret hurting you," Patrick says tightening his arms around David, afraid he might disappear. "I regret keeping this from you longer than I should have. But the bet pushed me to you. I became competitive and it forced me to try harder with you because all I cared about was beating Brock. But along the way, the bet didn’t matter anymore. Not compared to loving you. Which is why I let him win.”

“What?” David asks sitting up again. 

“I should have quit sooner,” Patrick says brushing his thumb over David’s cheek. “It didn’t even occur to me to do it until a week before the carnival. But yeah, before I found you, I told him the bet was off and that he won.”

“You gave up your spot for me?”

“You make it sound like what I did was valiant,” Patrick says with a weak smile. “Like I said, it should have been done sooner. Or it shouldn’t have happened at all.”

David is quiet, gently stroking his fingers up and down Patrick’s chest. “I was so mad,” he whispers. 

“I know,” Patrick replies swallowing thickly. 

“And running away from you made things worse,” David chews on his bottom lip. “I listened to your voicemail every night for the first month in New York.”

“You did?” Patrick asks, his eyes crinkling a little. 

“The last one you left me. I kept that one and I listened to it every night to help me fall asleep. I felt incredibly lame,” David says making an embarrassed noise as he furrows back into Patrick’s chest. 

Patrick closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, the David’s scent washing over him. 

“I spent two hours at the supermarket smelling every soap they had looking for yours,” Patrick replies. 

“What?” David asks bolting up again, Patrick laughing at his bewildered face. 

“I love how you smell,” Patrick says raking his hands through David’s hair. “Ever since that day in the biology room. If I smelled anything remotely close to it, I would think of you. But I couldn’t find the exact scent at the store.”

“Well, scent memory is incredibly powerful,” David replies swallowing hard. “And of course you wouldn’t be able to find it at some big box store. My shampoo is imported from Milan.”

Patrick smiles, “Oh, of course, how silly of me.”

David squeezes his eyes shut and presses his lips tightly together to keep down his smile, turning his face away from Patrick.

“You’re happy that you’re not the only one who handled the break up poorly,” Patrick confirms. 

“I wouldn’t say happy,” David says turning his head back towards Patrick. “More like relieved.”

Patrick laughs and traces David’s lips with his fingers. “David, believe me when I say I was completely destroyed when we broke up.”

David smiles down at Patrick softly. “I believe you and,” David says swallowing thickly. “I forgive you.”

Patrick closes his eyes, overcome with emotion. “Thank you, David,” he says quietly.

_A second chance. A second chance to love him._ _Don’t mess this up, Brewer._

David continues to look down at Patrick, his eyes raking over his face. “It’s orange and clove,” David says softly. 

“What is?” Patrick asks rubbing his thumb across David’s eyebrow. 

“My shampoo. It’s orange and clove.”

“Hm,” Patrick hums, pulling David down and smushing his nose into his hair, inhaling deeply. “Orange and clove,” Patrick repeats quietly. 

“I’m not going to catch you in my shower smelling my soap, am I?” David mumbles from underneath Patrick’s chin. 

“No, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

“My boyfriend is either overly sentimental or a loon.”

“Yes.”

* * *

They both fall asleep for a few hours wrapped in each others arms before waking up around midnight, David reluctantly putting his shoes back on.

“David, it’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Patrick says leaning on the door jam of his bedroom. 

“But I want to stay here,” David whines. 

“The last thing we need is your mother banging on my door demanding where I hid your body,” Patrick says with a grin. 

David pouts and crosses his arms. Patrick laughs and extends his hand out towards David who immediately takes it, pulling him up and wrapping his hands around his waist. 

“Can I take you out on a real date?” Patrick asks quietly. 

David knits his eyebrows together. “Patrick, we’ve been on many real dates.”

Patrick grins and shakes his head, his eyes twinkling. “No, a _real_ date.”

David continues to look puzzled, until it dawns on him what Patrick means. Not in the hidden corner of the library. Or at the top of the bleachers away from people. Or in the equipment shed behind the baseball field. A date where Patrick takes him out to a nice restaurant, holding hands across the table, fighting over the last bite of chocolate cake, and maybe even a kiss. All out in public for the world to see. A _real_ date. 

“Yes,” David breathes out, his cheeks heating up. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

Patrick smiles and pulls David in, kissing him sweetly. David thinks to himself that this could be his in to convince Patrick to let him stay, moving his hands down his back, his fingers brushing over the top of Patrick’s pants, when he suddenly pulls away. 

“Oh!” Patrick exclaims, stepping away from David. “I almost forgot!”

David whines again, his arms reaching back for Patrick as he steps around him. Patrick opens up his closet door and rummages through, his butt sticking out giving David a nice view to appreciate. He’s about pull Patrick back in, when he says, “Found it!” And turns around, holding something behind his back.

“Um,” Patrick hesitates, a blush on his cheeks. “So, this might prove just how lame I was during our breakup,” he says nervously. 

“Oh God, is it a vial of my hair?”

“What? No, David.”

“Okay good, because I would have to break up with you again if I found out you cut my hair.”

Patrick bites his lower lip and pulls from behind him a medium sized canvas. It’s unfinished, just the underpainting laid down with vague shapes sketched on with graphite.

“Oh my God,” David breathes out, reaching for his painting. “Where did you get this?”

“I took it,” Patrick says sheepishly. “On the last day of classes. You hadn’t been in the art room for weeks, and I didn’t want this to be thrown away. I kept it because it felt like keeping a piece of you with me.”

David traces his fingers along the canvas, shapes and colors swirling in his head. 

“Do you remember what I told you this was going to be?” David asks looking up at Patrick. 

“Uh, something about the social media and our economy?” Patrick answers unsurely. 

David smiles and gently leans his canvas against Patrick’s bed and reaches his hand out, Patrick coming easily into his arms. 

“I’ll show you when I finish it,” David murmurs in between his lips before kissing Patrick soundly. 

“You’re going to finish it?” Patrick asks tightening his arms around David’s waist. 

“Yeah,” David says nodding. “This is going to be a good one.”

* * *

“David tells me you’re planning a very special date tonight?” Stevie asks from beside Patrick in his car. 

“Yep, booked a reservation at that fancy place in Elmdale,” Patrick replies with pride. They’re driving back to Schitt’s Creek to drop Stevie off at the motel, the two of them having spent the day hanging out downtown while David got ready for the date later that night. 

“I still don’t know why he blocked out two hours to get ready, but I’m not the one dating him, thank God,” Stevie says with her feet propped up on the dash. 

Patrick smiles fondly. “He’s excited.”

“Are you going to meet him at the door with flowers?” Stevie teases. 

Patrick purses his lips together as his face flushes brightly. 

“Oh my God, you’re so dorky!” Stevie cackles. 

“Flowers aren’t dorky,” Patrick replies defensively. “He deserves flowers.”

“Are you going to give him a kiss on the cheek, let him wear your jacket, and ask him to go steady with you?” Stevie snickers. 

“I do still have my varsity jacket,” Patrick mumbles to himself, lost in thought. 

“Okay, I was totally joking,” Stevie says twisting her face in disgust. 

“I want to give him every cheesy, rom-com moment I can,” Patrick says. 

“And that’s fine, but don’t forget to give him some moments that are uniquely yours.”

Patrick looks at Stevie briefly before snapping his eyes back to the road. “I know you only pretend to not be helpful.”

“It’s no fun if I just _give_ you incredible advice. I need something out of it too.”

* * *

Patrick told David he made a reservation for them at Elmdale’s fanciest restaurant at 7pm, meaning they needed to leave no later than 6:15. But at 6:25, Patrick finds himself climbing up the grand staircase of the Rose family home, dressed in a white button down and black slacks, marching his way to David’s room with a bouquet of red roses, ready to drag his boyfriend out to the car. 

“ _I’ll be five more minutes,_ ” is what David said fifteen minutes ago. Not that Patrick is surprised really. Which is why the reservation is actually at 7:30, but David doesn’t need to know that. 

Patrick makes it to David’s door and knocks three times. He hears someone grunt from the other side and knocks again, receiving a slightly louder grunt. 

Patrick turns on the doorknob and opens the door, “David, we need to head out now-”

But the words get lost in his throat when he sees David. He’s standing in front of a large mirror, styling his hair, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

“Oh,” David says turning around. The wind rushes out of Patrick as he takes in David’s appearance. He’s wearing skin tight black jeans, a white button up with the top two buttons undone, and a black leather jacket that stretches across his wide shoulders. David’s hair is done up in his usual pompadour, but as he drops his hands, the piece of hair he was styling falls down against his forehead, curling inward. 

“I know, I know,” David says turning back towards the mirror. “I’m done, I promise.”

“Uh-huh,” Patrick says closing the door softly behind him and stalking slowly towards his boyfriend. But David doesn’t notice, continuing to work on his hair. 

“Oh, are those flowers for me?” David asks seeing the roses clutched in Patrick’s hand in the reflection of his mirror, his cheeks turning bright red. 

“Yup,” Patrick replies, continuing his stalk towards David. 

“They’re beautiful. I’ll have Adelina put them in a vase before we leave. Do you like this jacket? I don’t know if it’s appropriate for where we’re going.”

“It’s very nice. Take it off,” Patrick replies. 

David stops working on his hair and turns back around to Patrick. “Take off the jacket?”

“All of it.”

“All of what?”

“Your clothes.”

David looks at Patrick in confusion before registering the heat in his eyes and his predatory steps. 

“Oh no,” David says pushing his hands out in front of him. “We don’t have time for this! You planned a very nice date for us!”

“At an okay restaurant in Elmdale. I’m hungry for something else,” Patrick replies getting closer to David. 

David makes a noise in the back of his throat. “You can’t say things like that,” David whines, but sighs gently to himself when Patrick is only a foot away. “So this look is doing it for you?”

Patrick responds by dropping the bouquet to the ground, grabbing onto David’s waist and pulling him flush against him, the hard lines of his body pressing into David. 

“Okay, wow,” David blinks as Patrick begins to mouth at his neck, his hands pawing at David’s jacket. “I’m really glad I wore the jacket then.” And Patrick’s lips are on his, kissing him hard and rough, David wrapping his arms around his neck. 

Patrick begins to move them backwards, towards David’s bed when he suddenly stops himself. 

“Huh,” David asks in a daze, watching Patrick untangle himself. “Where are you going? Keep doing that thing with your mouth.”

But Patrick keeps walking until he’s at the door and flips the lock. “I really don’t need your family walking in on what I’m about to do to you.”

“Oh, fuck.”

And then they’re both grabbing at each other’s clothing, even David feeling too frenzied to carefully place his clothes on a chair like he usually does. 

“Your jacket,” Patrick murmurs in between their lips when David tosses his jacket onto the floor. 

“It’s leather,” David replies pushing Patrick onto his bed and straddling his hips. “It’ll be fine.” David begins to kiss down Patrick’s neck, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “If it were my Alexander McQueen Japanese Camellia tuxedo jacket, then we'd have a problem.”

Patrick wraps a hand around the back of David’s neck and brings his lips back down to his, licking into his mouth, David’s groans shooting straight down his body. 

David sits up enough to remove his button down, Patrick’s fingers also quickly working on his own shirt. 

“I’m going to be very hungry after this,” David says after he’s thrown his shirt behind him and latches himself back onto Patrick’s neck. 

“I’ll take you out afterwards, I promise,” Patrick says, running his hands down David’s naked back, feeling his muscles contracting underneath his fingers. David arches into his touch throwing his head back, exposing his neck, and Patrick leans up to suck on his pulse point, David’s hands weaving through his hair to keep him there. 

It isn’t long before they also lose their pants, David giggling as one of Patrick’s foot gets caught causing him to fumble around in bed. But Patrick makes quick work to turn David’s laughter into moans, rutting himself against him, David grabbing onto his back and shifting his hips to match Patrick’s rhythm. 

And when Patrick slides into David slick and hard, he wildly thinks to himself it feels like coming home. David is looking up at him like he’s hung the moon, tracing his face with his fingertips. Patrick leans his head against David’s, quickening his pace his heart hammering in his chest. 

“David, David,” Patrick whispers brokenly between them. 

“Stay,” David whispers back, gasping when Patrick hits the sensitive spot inside of him. “Always stay.”

And that tips Patrick over the edge, pulsing into David with hot bursts, shuddering against him, David coming only seconds after in between them. They latch onto each other, unable to let go, Patrick burying his head into David’s hair and breathing in the orange and clove deeply. 

They miss their reservation. But Patrick drives them to get ice cream afterwards. David wears the jacket and Patrick holds his hand the entire time.

* * *

“Who knew you had a kink for leather,” David teases when they’re settled back in his bed, Patrick lazily stroking his naked back, bodies tired after their ice cream run and a vigorous round two. 

“I think it’s specifically you in leather,” Patrick replies, nipping at his lip. 

David hums and burrows his face into Patrick’s chest. “I’ll make sure to wear it often.”

Patrick continues to run his hands up and down David’s body before he begins giggling quietly to himself, small chuckles that turn into real laughter, his body trembling violently. 

“What?” David asks raising his head up to look at Patrick. 

“You looked like Elvis,” Patrick wheezes out, wiping tears from his eyes. 

David narrows his eyes and purses his lips at Patrick. “And what is that supposed to mean? Are you saying I _don’t_ look good in leather.”

“No, no,” Patrick replies quickly, pulling David back down, his body still shaking. “I liked it a lot.”

“Then what’s so funny?”

“It just makes sense why I was so turned on,” Patrick snickers, raking his hand through David’s hair. 

“I’m not following,” David pouts. 

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I listened to Elvis so much?”

“You had a retro 50s fetish?”

“No,” he says laughing. “It was because of one of your sweaters. You wore it the day after I took my bet with Brock. I spent all night thinking about kissing you and when I saw you wearing that, I had this unexplainable urge to listen to Elvis Presley every day after that. I guess it was my brain subconsciously telling me that I was already in too deep with you to back out.”

“Oh,” David replies quietly surprised. “So, you have a crush on Elvis Presley?”

“No, David,” Patrick says fondly. “I like Elvis because he’s now associated with you. I barely listened to him before we started dating.”

“Hm,” David hums. “I don’t have to wear white sequined bell-bottom pants then, right?”

“I mean, maybe.”

“Priscilla wouldn’t want this.”

* * *

Patrick manages the sneak out of David’ house early enough the next morning to avoid the other Roses, but the same cannot be said with his parents. 

“Patrick,” his dad says from the couch, reading the morning paper. “On your way back in from a morning jog?”

“Uh,” Patrick says frozen in his spot, carrying his dress shoes in one hand. “Yes?”

“Interesting what kids these days are wearing for athletic wear,” his dad responds nonchalantly.

Patrick looks down at his rumpled slacks and his untucked dress shirt. “Well, I’m just going to go change-”

“Oh my sweet boy, coming back from a hike?” His mother asks from the kitchen doorway, a twinkle in her eyes.

Patrick groans and runs his hand through his hair. “Sorry, I lost track of time at David’s-”

“It’s fine, Patrick. You’re a grown man now. I just hope you’re being safe,” she replies with a pointed look. 

“Mom!” Patrick exclaims, his cheeks flushing red. 

“No glove, no love, son,” his dad adds from the couch, sipping his coffee while still reading the paper. 

Patrick makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. 

“Do we need to give you talk about the bees and the bees?”

“I’m going to leave now.”

* * *

“Oh God, your parents said that?” David says with horror from his seat in the movie theater, _She’s the Man_ playing in front of them. 

“I haven’t been able to look at them all day,” Patrick says shuddering.

“Having positive conversations about safe sex with your parents is incredibly healthy.”

“So you don’t mind talking to your parents about our sex life?”

“Dear God no, I’d rather die,” David replies, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. As his lifts his hand, Patrick catches a splatter of paint on his knuckle. 

“Have you been painting today?” Patrick asks, reaching for David’s hand. 

“Oh,” David says as he lets Patrick rub his thumb across his knuckles. “Yeah, I’ve been working on the canvas you gave back.”

“Is it almost done?” Patrick asks kissing his hand. 

“Almost, just a couple of details here and there,” David replies, smiling at Patrick’s touches. 

“Can I see it?”

David stops for a moment, his mind whirring. He was planning on saving it until Patrick’s birthday, but he was looking at him so openly and earnestly that David felt his resolve breaking. 

“Okay,” he breathes out. “Okay, I can show you.”

He takes them upstairs to his room, David’s hand hesitating slightly on the doorknob before opening it. 

He has an easel set up in the corner of his bedroom by the windows, similar to the set up he has back in New York. 

“It’s not done yet, I have to let this layer dry before I continue. But this it is,” David says leading Patrick to the painting. He watches Patrick’s reaction nervously, tugging on his shirt sleeves a little bit. 

The painting is of them, standing side by side with their arms wrapped around each other. Patrick’s head is tipped back with laughter and David is smiling at him, his eyes crinkled with joy. It’s uncomplicated but complex, much like their love.

“This is what it was supposed to be?” Patrick asks quietly. 

“Yes. Actually,” David says clearing his throat. “This was supposed to be a gift, for you.”

“You were going to give me this?” Patrick asks snapping his head towards David.

“You gave me my notebook, so I thought it was only fair I give something to you too,” David saw chewing on his bottom lip. 

Patrick breathes harshly. “Is that how you look at me?”

David smiles softly. “Every day.”

Patrick laughs as tears begin to stream down his face. “Oh David Rose,” he says pulling David in with his arms wrapped around his waist. “How could I be this lucky?”

David leans his forehead against Patrick’s. “I could ask you the same thing.”

* * *

David and Patrick spend the rest of their summer together, laughing, crying, and loving each other fiercely. Stevie hangs out with them more often than not, teaming with Patrick to tease David relentlessly and letting David steal her ice cream. 

They fought once in the middle of Valley Hill Park, the frustration of their impending separation cracking through their optimism. But it didn’t take long for them to find each other again, kissing underneath the dark skies of a raging thunderstorm.

Patrick takes David everywhere. Fancy restaurants, the ice cream parlor, the drive-in movie theater, even to the library with a stack of books sitting in between them. And through it all, Patrick never lets go of David’s hand. 

On their last day together, Patrick promises David a picnic, making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the crusts cut off and slices of pepperoni pizza piled high on a plate. 

“You didn’t tell me I would need to climb,” David whines as he stands at the base of Patrick’s treehouse. 

Patrick swats his behind and David glares back at him. “It’s annoying that you’re still cute.”

David makes it up the treehouse taking his time, although Patrick suspects that was done on purpose given the not so subtle and unnecessary swiveling of David’s hips. 

They settle along the edge, Patrick feeding David pizza and David demanding a kiss after each bite. Patrick doesn’t mind much though. After they’ve eaten, their bodies settle back, watching the sunset. 

“I just have one more thing,” Patrick says, reaching behind him to grab his guitar. 

“Oh, God. Are you going to sing right now?” David asks with horror. Patrick barks out a laugh. 

“Yes, David. I’m going to serenade you.”

“The pizza was enough, I promise.”

“Let me have this, David,” Patrick teases, his fingers beginning to pluck out a song. 

David sighs and leans against the wall, watching Patrick play with a lazy grin. 

“ _Wise men say, only food rush in,_ ” Patrick sings softly, his eyes on David. “ _But I can’t help, falling in love with you._ ”

David smiles, his face flushing beautifully. 

“ _Shall I stay?_ ” Patrick sings, his voice catching slightly. “ _Would it be a sin?_ ”

David’s eyes begin to water. 

“ _For I can’t help, falling in love with you._ ”

Patrick continues to sing until the sun goes down, his eyes never leaving David’s. And when he’s done, David leans over and kisses him sweetly, the rings on his right hand cool against Patrick’s neck. 

It’s an interesting to think about love and its inherent power, how it can cause so much destruction and beauty. And when two imperfect souls find each other, it is as if the heavens also have trouble breathing. 

They weren’t looking for each other. They didn’t mean to fall in love.

And yet, they did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you for reading and all the of kind comments <3


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was actually going to post this chapter yesterday, but I put it off because I wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to this story. Truth be told I'm still not ready. This started out as a small idea in August of last year, sentences written sporadically here and there until I sat down and wrote the first chapter in September. I hadn't written anything like this in ten years. It took a while for me to write this because life got in the way a lot, but writing this kept me anchored to the ground when I wanted to float away. I think we can all agree this show and its characters have impacted us all greatly, and this is just my tiny way of saying thank you. 
> 
> Once again, I can't thank you all enough for your kindness and encouragement. It's going to be strange to not think about this story every day anymore. But I hope this last chapter is as delightful to read as it was to write.
> 
> EDIT 1/13/20: I added a tiny little section about "The List" because last night I realized I never tied that little detail up and it literally bothered me ALL DAY

“I still can’t believe we managed to sell all of those wooden head massagers last weekend,” David says from the couch in the main office of the Schitt’s Creek Motel. 

“Those head massagers are coming in real handy since Roland won’t stop his one man show recounting the plot of the _Cats_ ,” Stevie replies from the front desk, her eyes trained on a game of solitaire. 

“Speaking of Roland, he’s cleared us of our stock of foot cream,” David says with a grimace. “Poor Patrick had to drive all the way to Elm Valley to pick up another order.”

“Why couldn’t you go?”

“Because it’s my day off and I want to take full advantage of it by being here with my best friend,” David says standing up and shimmying towards Stevie. 

“I’m not looking after the store,” Stevie replies deadpanned.

“Okay, but Patrick and I haven’t had a vacation in _forever_ ,” David whines. 

“Ask Alexis.”

“Are you kidding me?” David asks with disgust. “She and Ted had sex all over the store the last time I let her look after it.”

“You and Patrick have sex all over the store.”

“ _It’s our store!_ ”

“David, have you forgotten that I also have a job,” Stevie asks gesturing around the room. 

David groans out loud and pouts. “I just need three days of coverage. It’s been really stressful dealing with the store and the house and I just want to get away for a couple of days with him after we’ve moved.”

“Ask your dad. It seems like he’s pretty bored now that he’s retired. He’s been a big help at the motel.”

Last year Stevie found out she inherited the motel from her deceased great aunt causing her to spiral for several days. When David’s dad overheard her panicking in the middle of the store one day, he offered to help her with the books, sitting down with Stevie to formulate a plan to revamp the motel. When he officially retired three months later, Stevie found him hanging around the motel more often, helping her manage the property and grow the business. 

“My dad is the last person I would ask,” David says with his face scrunched up.

“Maybe it’s time you hired outside help.”

David sighs and rubs his forehead. “Patrick said the same thing.”

“Why are you hesitating then?”

“Because it’s just been the two of us. And I like it being just the two of us. The store is ours.”

“And the store will continue to be yours. But you guys are in a really good place right now. You can stand to take more days off and enjoy some more time together outside of the store.”

David knows Stevie is right. Rose Apothecary has been on a steady incline the last couple of years and business only continues to get better. 

The store was his idea, his passion since the moment he clumsily jot down ideas into his notebook his freshman year of college, the words, “My Dream,” written at the top of the page. Carefully curated goods that were locally sourced by surrounding communities. A general store, but also a very specific store. 

David will never forget that fateful year at the Spring Carnival. Sure he remembers the pain of Patrick’s betrayal, but he also remembers the awe he felt walking through the various craft booths and seeing all the beauty his small town had to offer. It deserved to be shared. 

It also helped having a very handsome, business major boyfriend to help start the store, pulling the money they had together to lease the building and gather their inventory. Patrick handled the paperwork and David handled the aesthetic. It was the perfect partnership. And it was an excuse to spend as much time as he could with Patrick. 

The store stands proudly in the middle of Schitt’s Creek, sandwiched between Café Tropicale and Bob’s Garage, a red brick building with a black storefront. The main floor houses all the crafts and items David has been able to procure from vendors and on the walls hang David’s artwork, many people traveling from afar to purchase his pieces. And three times a year they turn the store into a gallery, David presenting his work to not only the members of his community, but also to many of his colleagues from New York who travel to Schitt’s Creek for the weekend. It’s helped drum up a lot of profit for the local businesses and gives David the opportunity to show off his beautiful store. 

David paints whenever he can now that the store is stable. When the store first opened, David found it difficult to make time to paint, spending all of his energy into the business. Six months after they opened, Patrick surprised him with a beautiful art studio on the second floor of the building, Patrick renovating it by himself to create an oasis for David so that if he ever needed a break, he could come upstairs and paint. Large windows at the back wall let sunlight stream in and his beloved easel sits in front of them, a floor to ceiling bookcase tucked next to it that houses all of his supplies. David thanked Patrick by dragging him to the floor and showing his appreciation in the best way he knew how. Sometimes David will catch Patrick with a dazed smile on his face and he knows he’s thinking back to that day. 

And despite some misplaced skepticism from some people, their relationship only flourished more as they built their business together. 

The first three years after they got back together were tough, each missing each other desperately at times because of the long distance, the ache of not being close causing some strife in their relationship. But they managed to make it work. Because for David there’s no reason good enough to not be with Patrick.

The hallucinations never came back for either of them. They disappeared after that night at the gallery in the middle of Chelsea. They spoke about it once in between whispers on Patrick’s bed on the Christmas Eve of the year they got back together.

“Hey,” Patrick said quietly, nosing the back of David’s neck, his arms wrapped around his waist from behind him. “Can I as you something?”

“Mm,” David grunted in his sleep.

“You said something that night in the gallery,” Patrick started. “About hallucinating?”

Patrick felt David tense up and automatically started to rub his hip with his thumb. 

“Um, that’s not a conversation I want to have,” David said thickly. 

“Hey,” Patrick said gently, lifting himself up so he could look down at David’s face, his eyes avoiding him. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” David groaned, covering his face with his hands. “It was a momentary lapse in sanity. Several momentary lapses in sanity. I was fucking crazy.”

Patrick smiled down at him and kissed his temple. “I did the same thing.”

David’s hands dropped from his face and he sat up a little. “What?”

“I saw you too,” Patrick said propping his head up on his elbow. “In my treehouse. Whenever I missed you I would go up there and you would appear."

“In your treehouse?” David said wrinkling his nose. 

Patrick chuckled as he kissed David on the lips. “I came home every weekend for the first three months of college just so I could sit up there with you. I would talk to you. You didn’t talk back which didn’t really help with the illusion because you always have something to say,” Patrick teased. 

“This was very sweet up until that,” David snarked back, but he couldn’t keep this grin down. David twisted his body so that his face was smushed into Patrick’s neck. 

“I guess it’s kind of romantic in way? We both missed each other so much that we subconsciously conjured each other up to cope,” David murmured into his neck. 

Patrick stroked David’s back with his hand, smiling gently over David’s head. “I think you’re right.”

“Do you still do it?” David asked. 

“No,” Patrick replied shaking his head. “I don’t need to. I have the real thing,” Patrick said tightening his arms around David. “No need to pretend anymore.”

“No,” David agreed. They were quiet, Patrick’s hands still running up and down David’s spine. 

“But we can’t tell anyone though or else they’ll think we’re fucking crazy,” David said. 

“Agreed.”

Years later whenever Patrick manages to drag David up to the treehouse, he will lean against the wall and watch David and reach out to touch him, knowing that when he did, David will always be there and be real. David does the same thing whenever they walk the grounds of The Gardens, his arm linked with Patrick’s.

David flies back to New York often, sometimes with Patrick and sometimes without, to attend gallery openings and to present his work in several exhibits there. He’s always asked if he ever thinks about coming back, and David always says no and that he’s ready to go back home, the image of Patrick sleeping in their bed always fresh in his mind. 

His paintings now grace the walls of some of his favorite museums, his latest piece currently being presented at the MoMA.

And being apart never got easier, but it became more rewarding. Because coming home into each other’s arms was always worth it in the end.

After they both graduated from college, they spent six months traveling the world, a generous gift given to them by David’s parents. They went everywhere, dancing in the streets of Barcelona on warm summer nights, bundling up close together watching the choppy waters from the Irish shores, eating some of the most sublime food in Thailand, and watching the colors of the Northern Lights paint their faces. 

Patrick’s parents also very generously gifted them with some startup money, and when they returned home, fresh and energized from their travels, they immediately got to work, David creating relationships with vendors in all of the neighboring towns and Patrick filling out grant applications and business licenses. And it only seemed perfect they build their dream in Schitt’s Creek with only a short walk away from the motel Stevie has worked at most of her life. Because after the store closes, Stevie will come and drink wine with them, sometimes stealing some cheese from the refrigerator. And this has been their life for the last eight years. A beautiful life. Sometimes so perfect that David needs to pinch himself. 

“I’ll think about it,” David says sitting back down on the couch. 

* * *

Patrick walks up the stairs leading to his apartment, rolling his shoulders and yawning loudly. The vendor pick up today was supposed to be fairly easy, but Mrs. Watson roped him into some tea and cookies, and Patrick being too polite for his own good couldn’t say no.

He unlocks the front door and pushes his way in, the smell of garlic hitting his nose immediately. 

“Hi honey,” David says from the stove, and Patrick is once again struck by the image of his handsome boyfriend. David is wearing a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, his feet bare, looking warm and cozy on this quiet Sunday evening. Patrick toes off his shoes and makes his way into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around David’s waist and pressing kisses into the back of his neck. 

“Hi,” Patrick murmurs into his skin. “Smells good.”

“It’s the new sauce Kaya dropped off yesterday. It has roasted red peppers in it. I thought we should try it tonight and see what we think,” David says placing the lid back on the pot and turning around in Patrick’s arms. “Hi,” he says softly, kissing Patrick chastely. 

“Do we have anymore bread from Ivan?” Patrick asks, nuzzling his nose into David’s face. 

“Yeah, why don’t you grab it and we can stick it in the oven to heat up,” David says pecking Patrick once more on the lips before moving to the fridge. 

Patrick opens the bread box and takes out a third of the baguette left, watching David from the corner of his eye. They’ve been living together for nearly eight years now, the thrill of seeing David moving around so effortlessly in their home still giving him a thrill. 

There used to be a fear inside of Patrick where David grew sick of their small life here, grew tired of the domesticity and left for New York. Patrick feared not being enough for David. But David always stayed, and continues to stay, building a life together that is so perfect, Patrick thought he was dreaming sometimes. 

When the general store closed down just as they returned from their travels, Patrick knew this was their chance to make David’s vision come true. It’s as if the universe just plopped it into their laps. David wasn’t as ready to jump on the opportunity at Patrick, deeming it, “Too good to be true.” But with gentle kisses and an extra long back rub, Patrick was able to convince David to file his incorporation papers. With Patrick’s help of course. Two weeks later Patrick presented David with their business license in a silver frame. David, who very lovingly said it looked too corporate for the store, hung it up immediately behind the cash register. 

Now eight years later, their little store was thriving, a permanent fixture in the community of Schitt’s Creek who welcomed the two of them warmly. 

They eat together in the living room, carefully balancing their plates on top of cardboard boxes. 

“God, I can’t wait to move,” David says with a mouthful of pasta. 

“I don’t know,” Patrick says looking around their small apartment, most of their belongings carefully packed away. “I’m going to miss it here. We made a lot of memories.”

“We’ll be making a lot of memories in our house. Our beautiful house with my own walk-in closet,” David says with a dazed smile. 

Patrick chuckles and rubs his hand on David’s knee. “Are we going to christen every room?”

“If you mean bless the house with our love energy, then yes.”

Patrick laughs again and forks some pasta into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Can we build a treehouse?”

“I’m not having sex in a treehouse, Patrick. I still have a splinter from the last time.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

* * *

David is restocking candles in the back when he hears the shop bell ding. 

“Oh hello, you,” he hears his mother say to Patrick. “Just wanted to pop in and say bonjour to my two strapping boys.”

“I think we both know you’re here for more than that,” David says with a pointed look. 

“Oh, David,” his mother drawls out. “I was simply in the neighborhood. Is it a crime to want to see my offspring?”

Over the years, David developed quite the bond with his family, often times getting lunch with them at the café. His parents continue to support all of his ventures, still displaying many of David’s paintings in their home and showing them proudly. They’ve offered financial support to the both of them as well, wanting to gift them with more startup money and even a large apartment in Elmdale. But David very adamantly declined their help. He still gets flustered whenever they tell him they’re proud of him and even more so when they’re able to get David to tell them he loves them. It’s not a lot, but it’s just enough. 

And watching his family interact with Patrick always gives David a thrill. He knows he and his family are a lot to handle, but Patrick loves them all just the same. David used to wonder if they were all too much for him, if things weren’t quiet enough. But Patrick has never faltered in his love for David and his family. And now David believes he never will. 

“Would you like to try our newest goat milk hand cream, Mrs. Rose?” Patrick says offering her the test jar. 

“Oh, sweet Pat. You do know how to rouse such joy into my life,” his mother says accepting the jar into her dainty and greedy little hand. 

“Can I help you with something?” David says putting the box down and walking to his mother with his arms crossed. 

“Your father and I request your presence at the house next Sunday. We are going to be throwing a lovely little familial gathering. Alexis and her beau will also be present,” his mother says skirting around him to look at the skin care products on the back shelf. 

“We’ll be there,” Patrick answers before David can, smirking at him annoyingly. 

David rolls his eyes and follows his mother, making sure she doesn’t “accidentally” drop something into her bag. “Fine, but as long as I don’t get stuck sitting next to Alexis. I’m still very upset with her.”

“Oh, David,” his mother tsks at him. “This juvenile squabble needs to be put to rest. It was all a simple misunderstanding.”

“She called the Sarah Sze installation garbage _right in front of her_!”

“A minor faux pas.”

* * *

Marcy Brewer never disappoints when Patrick and David come over for their weekly dinner. The table is always littered with their favorite foods, Patrick’s mother always making sure to bake an extra dessert for David to take home with them. 

David and Patrick have dinner at the Brewer home every Tuesday night, bringing a bottle of wine from the store with them. His mom is always out the door as soon as they park their car in the driveway, his father watching them with a grin from the porch. David is always the first one to get a hug from his mom, wrapping his long arms around her small body and holding on tight.

David and his mom will be in the kitchen preparing for dinner, chatting about their week while Patrick and his dad wait in the living room, watching a game on the television until the food is ready. David is always the first one to get served. 

“Marcy, I could cry from how delicious this pasta is,” David says chewing in ecstasy. 

His mom giggles, scooping another helping onto his plate. “I do it for you, David.”

Patrick smiles from behind his wine glass, shaking his head fondly. 

“Are you already for the move on Saturday?” His dad asks from beside him. 

“Just a couple of more boxes here and there at the apartment. The real test will be getting the rest of David’s clothes from the Rose mansion. Adelina told me she’s prepped the staff for a full day of labor,” Patrick replies with a teasing glint towards David. 

“Cruel, you are all very cruel to me,” David responds waving his fork. “And I’ll have you know I’ve had to throw out many pieces in my wardrobe collection because _someone_ keeps throwing my cashmeres into the wash!”

“It was one time, David,” Patrick says rolling his eyes playfully. “It ended up being a very nice dish towel in the end.”

David sputters at him dramatically, his mom patting David’s knee. “I’ll bring you an extra pie to celebrate with on Saturday after we’re done.”

“You are the only one who cares for me,” David replies passionately. 

His mom chuckles and pours David more wine. “How was the wedding last week?”

“It was nice,” Patrick replies thinking back to his friend’s wedding, taking a sip from his glass. “David caught the bouquet.”

“You should have seen me, I caught it as if I were on an actual baseball meadow,” David preens

His dad laughs, “I’m not surprised, you have quite the arm on you David! Still very impressed from that pickup game we had last month. Mr. Jackson is very jealous that I have two boys that are baseball players,” he says proudly. 

Patrick still plays baseball whenever he can. It helps that Schitt’s Creek has its own baseball league, Patrick playing for Café Tropicale. David still irons Patrick’s uniform before every game and from the stands he yells out how hot his boyfriend looks while eating a hotdog.

During the summer he helps out with little league, working along side Brock who teaches computer science at the community college a couple of towns over. Over the years as they got older, their friendship grew, any petty feelings falling away with age. David and Patrick now go out for drinks with Brock and his husband at least once a month. 

Sometimes they revisit the equipment shed behind the baseball field of their high school for old time’s sake. 

“It was nice making my baseball debut, but I think I’m going to stick with Marcy on the bleachers and uphold my spectator aesthetic,” David says with a wince making Clint laugh. 

“Thank goodness, I was getting a little lonely sitting there all by myself,” Patrick’s mom chuckles. “It must have felt nice to catch the bouquet. Any chance we’ll be seeing either of you throwing one soon?” She asks and David chokes on his wine.

“Mom,” Patrick whispers sharply. 

“What?” She asks innocently, winking towards him while David blushes beautifully from beside her. “I’m not getting any younger here, Patrick.”

“Oh my God,” Patrick groans quietly. 

“We’ve been a little busy with the store and moving,” David says while clearing his throat awkwardly. “There are certain conversations that are still yet to be had.”

“Ah, well perhaps an important conversation to have is the importance of not dilly-dallying around,” she says with a pointed look at Patrick. 

“This is terrible,” Patrick says with his head in his hands. 

“Don’t worry son,” his dad says patting his back. “Just imagine having this conversation with Moira.”

“Oh God,” David squeaks out while Patrick’s parents laugh at their misery. 

* * *

“I’m sorry about my parents,” Patrick says as they settle into bed for the night. They bid his parent’s an awkward adieu, Patrick’s mother winking terribly at him. The drive home was slightly awkward at first, neither of them talking. David was playing with the rings on his finger when he noticed Patrick gripping onto the steering wheel a little bit tighter. He reached out his hand and put it on his thigh, feeling Patrick relax underneath his fingertips. 

“It’s okay,” David murmurs. “I know they mean well.”

“Yeah,” Patrick mumbles while pulling at his fingers. He has a contemplative look on his face, kind of distant with thought when he asks, “But is that something you’ve been thinking about?”

“About what?” David asks while fluffing up his pillow. 

“Marriage.”

David stops moving and looks at Patrick. “Oh.”

“It’s okay if you haven’t! No pressure,” Patrick says awkwardly.

“I mean, I haven’t _not_ thought about it,” David replies shyly. 

Has David thought about marrying Patrick every day since they’ve been together? No. Okay, yes, but he would never admit it out loud.

And it’s not a matter of whether or not they will, because they absolutely will. They’ve been together since they were eighteen years old, it’s inevitable. And David knows there is no one for him other than Patrick and he knows Patrick feels the same way. But it’s still terrifying to think about in an old, cliché kind of way. 

Marriage. Marrying someone. Lifelong commitment.

_But you’ll be marrying Patrick._

As the thought settles down into David’s bones, he realizes it’s not so scary after all. 

“Have you thought about it?” David asks. Patrick chews on his bottom lip before nodding his head. “I have. A lot.”

“Oh.”

Silence. 

“What do you think about it?” Patrick asks hesitantly. 

“It sounds,” David starts, searching for the word. “Nice?”

“Nice?” Patrick asks laughing. 

“I don’t know!” David replies exasperated. “I mean based on what we see, my parents and yours, it looks nice!”

Patrick smiles and settles his body down into the bed more, lying on his side and propping his head up with his hand to look at David. “It looks a bit like us already, doesn’t it?”

David purses his lips and thinks. Coming home to Patrick every night. Being wrapped in his arms whenever he’s near. Smiling at each other from across the store. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

Patrick continues to look at David with a soft smile, one that is only for David. “I love you, David Rose.”

David blushes and smiles back at Patrick. “I love you, too”

Patrick grins at him and lifts up his chin asking David for a kiss. So he gives him one, nice and slow and full of love. When they pull away, David murmurs between his lips, “I would say yes.”

“Hm?” Patrick hums with his eyes closed. 

“I would say yes if you asked me,” David says, his face flushing red.

Patrick opens his eyes and blinks at David. “Why do I have to be the one who asks?”

“Excuse me?” David says surprised. “You expect _me_ to ask?”

“I mean, it sounds nice,” Patrick replies with a snarky grin. 

“Between the two of us, I will not be the one to ask,” David says crossing his arms. 

“Why not? I can see it now, you getting down on one knee,” Patrick says pulling in his lips as he tries to suppress his laughter. “And a big banner behind you.”

“You think you’re real funny,” David says deadpanned. 

“Babe, can you propose to me on the baseball field? Or better yet, at the batting cages! You can ask me while hitting baseballs!”

“Goodnight,” David says turning off his lamp.

“Or maybe we can go to an actual baseball game and you can ask me on the jumbotron in front of thousands of people.”

“Divorce! I’m getting a divorce!” David shouts, turning his body away from Patrick. 

“Or maybe you can slip a piece of paper into the bottom of a box of Crackerjacks if you’re looking for subtly,” Patrick says wrapping his arms around David’s waist from behind him and snuggling into his back. 

“I don’t even know what crackerjacks are.”

“Can you get one of those airplanes that write messages in the sky?”

“Do you hear yourself talking right now?” David snaps at him.

* * *

“So, he asked you to marry him,” Stevie says while sipping on a glass of wine in David’s new kitchen. 

“He didn’t _technically_ ask, but he alluded to it,” David replies unpacking a box of plates. It’s not their official move in day yet, but David has been going to the house whenever he has time to unpack a few things here and there. 

He loves his house. He loves it because it’s his and Patrick’s, a reflection of their hard work. David has lived in mansions, penthouse suites, chalets, and even in the presidential suite at the Hotel Cala di Volpe in Porto Cervo, Italy for six months when he was twelve. But this is his favorite home, this three bedroom craftsman bungalow. Because he earned it.

“So he kind of asked you to marry him?” Stevie asks. 

“Yes.”

“And you said…?”

“I told him I would say yes,” David says primly. “Because I would. In a heartbeat. Faster than that probably.”

“Is it even necessary? You guys have been living together for almost a decade and you just bought a house together. According to the law, you guys are already married.”

“We’ve been busy,” David says shrugging his shoulders. “We travelled for a while and when we came back, all our energy went towards opening the store. We kind of just forgot.”

“But now you want a wedding?”

“I’ve always wanted a wedding. Now just seems like a good time to start planning one. If he asks,” David adds quickly. 

“If he asks,” Stevie repeats weakly. 

“I’m not going to make assumptions,” David says modestly. 

“Sure, not while you’re wearing his old varsity jacket and unpacking his Blue Jays beer steins in the house you bought together,” Stevie says gesturing towards his clothing and the glassware he’s holding. 

“I’m trying to uphold some semblance of surprise,” he snaps with no real heat. 

“Mm,” Stevie hums taking a deep sip of her wine and smirking. “Because surprises have been lacking in your relationship."

* * *

Patrick is ringing up a customer when Alexis breezes in, waving one finger towards him. 

“Hi button,” she says wafting around the store, picking up various products and then putting them back down. 

“Hi Alexis,” Patrick says warmly. “What brings you in here this morning?”

“Just wanted to pop in and say hey. And to pick up some wine. Ted and I are having guests over for a cute little dinner party and he asked me to pick up a bottle of red,” Alexis says while pursuing the wine selection. 

“How is Ted?” Patrick asks leaning his hip against the counter. 

“Busy,” Alexis huffs out. “Which is like, really good obviously. And so I am with my business too. But I can’t wait to have a weekend to ourselves for cuddling and reconnecting,” she says with a clumsy wink. 

Patrick smiles at her, shaking his head fondly. In the last few years, Alexis experienced a dramatic transformation that David calls, “A clusterfuck of terrible decisions in Jimmy Choos.” 

After graduating from high school, she went to college for a semester before dropping everything and falling back to her old habits of traveling the world and finding herself in dangerous situations. And Ted patiently waited for her, always her anchor to come home to if she wanted to, until he wasn’t anymore. Because Ted would have waited every day for forever, but that didn’t mean he should have had to. 

And when Alexis realized that being loved by Ted meant more to her than partying on yachts with dukes and drug lords, she came back home and worked on herself, finishing college and opening up her own PR firm. And she won Ted back, showing him that loving him helped her love herself. 

David would never say it out loud, but his pride for Alexis could fill a hundred stadiums as would Patrick’s.

“In that case,” Patrick says coming around from the counter. “How about I throw in a free wedge of cheese to go with the wine?”

Alexis bounces up and down, clapping her hands together. “You are my favorite,” Alexis says, tapping Patrick lightly on the nose. 

“Just don’t tell David,” Patrick says reaching into the fridge for a wedge of brie. “I gave him a hard time the other day for taking an extra bottle of toner.”

“It’ll be our little secret,” Alexis says crossing her heart with her finger. “Are you guys ready for the move?”

“Yeah,” Patrick breathes out, ringing her up. “I’m ready to be settled in. With the store and the renovations at the house, it’s been a bit hectic for us.”

“Hm,” Alexis hums. “David has been telling me all about the renovations. Like all the details. Like he won’t shut up about them.”

“He’s excited,” Patrick says fondly. “All those nights of falling asleep on the couch watching HGTV has paid off.”

“Yes, he told me about the Carrara Bianco honed hexagon nero strip marble mosaic tile in your new bathroom. Sounds very exciting.”

Patrick grins, handing her a tote bag with all of her purchases when the shop bell rings and David walks in. “What are you doing here?” David asks, whipping his sunglasses off his face. 

“Chill, David! I’m buying wine,” Alexis says rolling her eyes. 

“Nuisance,” David says pointing at her. “You’re still banned.”

“Oh my God, David. It was one time!” Alexis says crossing her arms. 

“Yeah, _all over the fucking store Alexis_!”

Patrick snickers behind his hand and walks around the counter to wrap his arms around David’s waist and kissing him sweetly. “Hi,” he murmurs in between their lips knowing a kiss will relax David. David’s scent, spicy and warm with a hint of citrus, washes over him and steadies his heart, just like it has every day for the last twelve years. 

“Hi,” David says with his crooked grin. “Most of the furniture came in. Just waiting on the dining room table.”

“Good,” Patrick says pecking David on the lips again. “I can’t wait to move in with you.”

“We’ve been living together for eight years,” David replies with a grin, tilting his head asking for another kiss. 

“Yes, but this is our first house,” Patrick says kissing David again. David’s eyes lighten up and he kisses Patrick more deeply, his arms winding around his neck. 

“Okay, ew David.”

“You can get the fuck out, Alexis.”

* * *

Even with most of the furniture moved in, it’s a busy day on Saturday as movers and friends bring in box after box from the truck and their car. Alexis sits on the porch swing directing people where to go while filing her nails, stopping Ted whenever he walks by to demand a quick kiss before returning to her supervisory duties. David is inside fixing Alexis’ misdirections, becoming more and more frantic as the day continues on. But Patrick is by his side to rub his shoulders and his back, feeling the tension unfurl beneath his fingertips. 

Their house is modest in size, a three bedroom, two-story craftsman bungalow with dark blue siding, white trim and a wrap around porch. David found the listing for it online and demanded the town’s realtor, a very chatty yet kind man named Ray, show it to them immediately. They walked through the first floor, David touching the wooden mantle above the stone fireplace with light touches and sitting down on the large bay window in the kitchen looking out to the expansive backyard. The kitchen was small, but knocking down the wall separating it from the dining room would open it up, Patrick thought to himself. And three bedrooms meant they could have both a guest bedroom and an office space. There was a spacious attic that let in a lot of natural light for a home art studio for David. And when Patrick found David standing in the middle of the master bedroom underneath a large skylight, the sun streaming down and casting a warm, golden glow on him, Patrick knew he had found their home. 

After they sign all the paperwork, David asked if they could have a vegetable garden in the back. Patrick gifted him with a set of gardening tools engraved with his name in the handle.

It’s been about eight months since that day and if they weren’t at the store, they were at the house tearing down old cabinets or painting the walls. Patrick sometimes thinks back to the first time David picked up a sledgehammer and smashed a large hole into a wall with one powerful swing. Patrick insisted on taking a break to show just how sexy he thought his boyfriend looked wielding a large tool in his hands. David didn’t mind much.

Watching David turn their house into a home became one of Patrick’s favorite things. Because much like the store, David chose every detail with care and consideration. And although all of the decorating fell to him, he made sure to include Patrick in every decision. From the large sectional couch perfect for cuddling on to the wrought iron wall mount for Patrick’s guitar in their bedroom, David poured everything he had to make something special. And Patrick loves him so much. 

His parents and David’s are in the kitchen chatting, Mrs. Rose sipping from a wine glass as she recounts her latest adventure in South Korea for a cameo in a popular drama. 

“Alexis, you're not helpful!” David’s voice rings from the front porch and Patrick walks quickly out the front door for damage control. 

He passes by Stevie show shrugs her shoulders and plops down onto the sectional, propping her feet up on the coffee table. 

Patrick rubs David’s shoulders as he and Alexis bicker about the correct placement of the dining room table. Ted is doing the same thing with Alexis’ shoulders.

The sun is beginning to set when all the boxes and furniture have officially been moved into the house. Patrick stretches out his back, rolling his neck as he feels the tension in his body beginning to seep out. 

He walks into the living room and finds Alexis and Ted curled up on the couch, Ted sleeping peacefully with his head in her lap as she uses one hand to card through his hair and the other to scroll through her phone.

The TV still needs to be set up, but standing next to it is a small shelf with a collection of all their favorite movies. They still continue to add to "The List", still predominantly David's choices with a sprinkle of Patrick’s. But every Sunday night they cuddle on the couch and pick a movie from it, a bowl of popcorn in between them. “The List” now surpasses over a hundred movies and it seems as though it will never be completed. But David and Patrick continue to try and will always try. And nestled in between _Cinderella Man_ and _The Godfather_ is a copy of _13 going on 30_ , worn and bent from use. 

He walks into the dining room and runs his hand down the long wooden dining table. He sees him and David eating together every night, but he also sees his parents and David’s family gathered around the table, everyone talking over each other, Stevie sneaking more wine into her glass. He can see birthdays, holidays, and random Thursday nights at the table. 

Stevie is in the kitchen unpacking the last of their pots and pans with a glass of wine in her hand, Patrick’s mother filling up their refrigerator with groceries she bought for them as well as several containers of food she made the night prior. Patrick notices her unpacking several boxes of her famous apple pie. 

His father and Mr. Rose are in the backyard, a beer in their hands as they chat about golf, Mrs. Rose lounging on one of the new patio chairs with her black lace parasol in her hand. 

The backyard is huge, a tall wooden fence surrounding the perimeter. But when standing on the porch, you can see past the fence and into the fields behind it, a line of trees in the distance. In the far right corner are long pieces of wood and bags of soil. Tomorrow, Patrick and his dad are going to build David’s vegetable garden while he and Adelina go over what he’s going to grow. Patrick can already taste David’s hard work on his tongue.

On the opposite side of the backyard is a large oak tree, sturdy and strong, perfect for a treehouse. 

Patrick walks back inside and up the stairs, peaking his head into the guest room, the bed assembled with the sheets neatly folded at the end ready to be spread out. Their bedroom is all ready to be slept in, with light grey sheets and a bright white comforter with pillows piled high by the headboard. Leaning on the walls of their bedroom are some David’s paintings, waiting to be mounted, a collection of their favorite works that will never be sold. 

The painting of two figures separated by violent waves of red and purple, the painting of the weeping willow, the portrait of Patrick painted in different shades of blue, and lastly the painting of them, Patrick’s head thrown back while David looks at him with unfiltered joy. 

It’s a timeline of their story, love embedded into each brushstroke. 

Patrick finds David in the study, sitting on the floor as he unpacks several boxes filled with books, Mariah Carey playing softly from his phone. David designed this room specially for Patrick, choosing pieces that were practical but still aesthetically pleasing. A large oak desk is up against the wall with a window looking out into the backyard and on the wall to the left are floor to ceiling book cases. Already set up are Patrick’s personal knick knacks: his very first baseball that David has placed in a glass case, some of his trophies from school, and his favorite photos of them placed in tasteful black frames. Patrick leans against the door frame and watches David, a gentle smile on his lips as his boyfriend stacks the books in neat piles separated by genre. 

“Hey,” Patrick says softly. David turns around and smiles up at him. “Hi.”

“How about we take a break for dinner? My mom brought all of your favorites to celebrate,” Patrick says taking a step towards David. 

David hums and reaches his hand out, Patrick taking it and pulling him up, wrapping his hands around his waist. 

“Did she bring the pie?” David asks with a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Several,” Patrick murmurs before kissing him softly, letting the warmth of David spread through his body as it always does. 

“Your mother is a saint,” David sighs, knocking their foreheads together. “I’m so tired.”

“I know,” Patrick replies, rubbing his thumbs into David’s waist. “But we’re officially moved in and we have a very big bed to sleep in tonight.”

“Mm, a big bed to celebrate on as well I hope,” David says wagging his eyebrows and shimmying his shoulders. 

Patrick laughs and kisses David hard, joy tingling down his body in waves. “How about we open the store tomorrow a little bit later? I think we could both use an extra hour of sleep.”

David bites his bottom lip and nods his head. “About that,” David starts, clearing his throat. “I’ve been thinking about it and I think we should, possibly, maybe, if the right person is available…”

Patrick looks at David expectantly, watching him struggle to finish his sentence. “Yes, David?” Patrick asks with a grin. 

David huffs and rolls his eyes. “Hire someone at the store,” David grumbles out. 

“Really?” Patrick says with a glint in his eyes.

“The store is doing well and we’ve gotten really busy over the last three years. And I think it might be nice to take some time off together. You know, for rejuvenating and relaxation,” David says looking towards the ceiling. 

“Mhm,” Patrick hums. “What made you change your mind?”

David gives Patrick a look that is just for him. It’s when his face relaxes into his crooked grin, his eyes open and honest and real, a side of vulnerability that only Patrick is gifted to see. 

“I’ll need some free time to plan a wedding.”

Patrick’s heart leaps into his throat, his eyes softening and relaxing in the way that is only meant for David. 

Patrick has been thinking about marrying David for several years, since the beginning to be completely honest. It just makes sense, marrying David. But the right moment seemed to allude them, the store taking up all of their time. Patrick was actually planning on proposing last year. But then a pipe burst at the store and suddenly he was shoving the long velvet box with four gold rings back into his sock drawer as he and Ronnie worked day in and day out to fix the store. The box was currently hiding in Patrick’s laptop bag, placed carefully in the back seat of their car. 

Patrick can see the two of the so clearly, whispering their promises, David looking beautiful in his suit. 

_A wedding._

“A wedding,” Patrick breathes out, tightening his arms around David’s waist. 

“I’m still not asking,” David says quickly, tilting his nose up. “I am merely preparing.”

Patrick smiles, wide and bright and kisses David softly, letting his bones find peace in David’s warmth.

“I love you, David Rose,” Patrick whispers in between their lips. 

“I love you, too,” David replies softly. “Now this has been an emotionally raw conversation and I believe you told me I had several pies waiting for me downstairs.” David slips out of his arms and grabs his phone from the floor and walks out of the room, exclaiming, “Marcy Brewer, you are an angel, where’s the pie?”

Patrick chuckles and shakes his head and moves forward to chase after David, already imagining tasting David’s sweet kisses. But his eye catches a worn leather notebook sitting atop the desk, silver lettering on the lower left hand corner. He walks towards it, gently touching it with his fingertips, tracing David’s name. 

He hasn’t seen this notebook in years, Patrick buying David a new one every time he’s filled its pages. He’s bought dozens by now, but this is the first. 

He picks it up and flips through the pages, David’s sketches and words warming him up inside, his ideas and dreams from when they were just kids causing emotion to swell up in his throat. 

He finds a list of things David wanted to do the summer they broke up. At the top of the list is, “Picnics with Patrick”. Patrick begins to mentally plan a picnic for David for the following week. 

He sits down on the desk chair and gets lost in David’s mind, falling in love with him more, as if that were even possible. He flips page after page until he gets towards the middle to a page that falls open easily. It’s blank except for a little bit of writing in the top right hand corner. 

The words, _I love you_ , stare back at him in his handwriting, the ink faded and smudged as if is someone has traced it over and over with their finger a thousand times. 

But there’s an addition underneath it, newer, but still aged with time. 

_I love you too._

He and David have been together since they were eighteen years old and the love they have, to what it became, still overwhelms Patrick. It doesn’t feel real. But when he catches David staring at him with his crooked grin, Patrick loses his breath every time and chases David until he’s in his arms, his lips pressed gently against his. 

To love David Rose and to be loved by him feels like salvation. And to give him everything that Patrick is doesn’t seem enough. So Patrick will give David Rose anything he wants, even plucking stars out from the sky is he asks. All he has to do is ask. 

And Patrick knows all he has to do is ask David as well.

Patrick looks in various boxes until he finds a pen and goes back to the notebook and with shaking hands writes one more message underneath David’s handwriting, a question really. The promise of his words settle down into Patrick’s bones and he smiles down at them, seeing David in his head so clearly.

“Patrick! I’m going to eat all the pie and I am not saving you a slice unless you come down right now!” David shouts from the kitchen. Patrick grins and stands up, chasing David’s voice. The notebook lies open on the desk, two words written in black ink popping out against the weathered paper. 

_Marry me?_

* * *

Patrick asks David to marry him during a picnic underneath the branches of the weeping willow behind the library a week later. He wants David to know that if things ever become too much, he has Patrick to run to now, Patrick who will always be there to catch him in his arms. And the sad memory of their heartbreak under the tree is now replaced with something more special, something hopeful and after Patrick slides four gold rings onto David’s left hand, they sway together in the wind, Patrick singing Elvis Presley softly into David’s ear as tears rush down his face.

No one is surprised and everyone is elated. 

And despite the fact that Patrick makes a budget for a decent sized wedding, David plans something small and intimate; just them, their parents, Alexis and Stevie. 

“A wedding is about us,” David says when he shows Patrick his mood board. “And maybe we can have a big party for our one year anniversary, but this feels right.”

Patrick simply kisses David and tells him its perfect. 

A month later, David and Patrick get married in the clearing where they had their very first picnic, exchanging rings and promises to each other.

“I promise to always answer truthfully, to see you, all of you, and to stay. Always stay.”

They’re holding each other’s hands, smiling openly as their future binds together. And around David’s neck, underneath his dress shirt is the blue labradorite necklace, it pressing into his skin when Patrick pulls him for a kiss. 

Their parents cry and Alexis watches them with pride. Stevie has a smirk on her face, her eyes reflecting that she’s known this reality for a very long time.

They have dinner at Patrick’s parent’s house, a long table set out in the backyard, everyone spilling wine and eating pie with heaping scoops of ice cream. And as the sun begins to set, Patrick is able to pull David into the treehouse one more time, the two of them leaning together, ties undone and their legs dangling off the ledge as they repeat their vows to each other again. With the feeling of Patrick’s warm hand wrapped around his neck, his lips gentle and strong on his, David knows he’ll never have to make another wish again. 

_I have someone who sees me. All of me and stays. Always stays._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you friends, see you again soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr! https://maybewecandreamalittle.tumblr.com/


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